Count To Ten
by mezzo88
Summary: Rachel takes advice from Santana and lands herself in a mess.
1. Chapter 1

**Count To Ten**

**Prologue**

Kurt Hummel had spent a lot of his time watching Rachel Berry. He had watched her before he really knew her, simultaneously awed and disgusted at her ability to dress like a five year old prostitute. He had watched her during Glee, when her drive and passion got the better of her and made her an obnoxious force. He had watched her interactions with Finn and was torn between feeling sorry for her pitiful attempts at seducing him, being angry at how she threw herself at the boy he'd had such a huge crush on, and feeling the urge to slap some sense into her. He'd watched her getting slushied, humiliating herself, singing her heart out, storming out of rooms and standing her ground. Over the years, he'd felt all kinds of emotions towards her. But it had never been like this. Because in this moment, with her standing before him, her fists balled up at her sides, her eyes dangerously sparkling and her voice set firm as she told him to fuck off (and he was sure something very wrong had to be going on when Rachel Berry actually used the word _fuck_), she really was almost a scary as Santana. And, actually, kind of hot, Kurt thought, though he didn't dare voice his assessment out loud. He was, after all, undeniably and rather obviously gay, and Rachel, having been subjected to countless insults stating she was anything but feminine probably wouldn't appreciate the thought. And it wasn't really that he suddenly found girls attractive or that he would start drooling over her or anything like that. But he had always been able to respect and find joy in the beauty of a person, no matter the gender or his personal feelings towards them. And Rachel Berry passionate? Definitely a sight to behold. Of course, her being who she was, he had seen her passionate before. She was passionate about her dreams and goals, about glee club, about anything she set her mind to, but he had never seen her passionately angry, and even if it sounded dumb, it suited her.

Rachel heaved a heavy sigh, bringing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. He didn't even know what was going on, but he was sure he was going to find out. "So…what's got you in such a mood?"

"Nothing", she said. "Just…"

"What?"

"I wanted…but then Santana…we had…and Quinn…I didn't…"

"Full sentences, please, Rachel."

"It's not important."

"Yes, I'm sure about that, but I still want to know."

"Leave it alone, Kurt." She was starting to work herself up again, he could see it, and honestly, he was getting a little kick out of it.

"Rachel." He let her name hang in the air, confident she'd feel the need to fill the silence.

"What do you want to hear from me?", she asked, tiredness seeping into her voice.

"Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours. You mentioned Santana and Quinn?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, tough. Wait, it's not about Finn again, is it?"

"Kurt, just…shut up. Shut up, okay? Not everything is about Finn. In fact, if you'd just pay some attention to what…" He had some trouble understanding the rest of her angry rant. She was running around, her arms up in the air, her voice alternating between a mumbling and a high-pitched scream, but he did hear Santana's name again and something about a bad advice and then something about Quinn and a song, and it was enough to make him more than curious. If she'd just calm down then maybe he could get the whole story out of her, but she didn't even seem to realize he was there anymore. Rachel Berry passionately angry? Getting old soon.

"Okay, drama queen", he started, fighting the urge to just shut up and let her be (exactly what she had asked of him, but no fun at all) and taking a step back when she looked like she would come at him and strangle him to death with her bare hands, right then and there.

"What?", she asked. From her tone – again eerily similar to Santana's, threatening and cowing – he understood she didn't look for an answer or even a continuation of the conversation. He decided he didn't care.

"Just stop making a scene." For almost a full minute, she simply stared at him. Then she opened her mouth and closed it again. He saw her taking a deep breath, seemingly composing herself, and then she opened her mouth again. He braved for one of her ridiculously long rants and was surprised when the only word that came out of her mouth was "Seriously?"

This time, the first association his mind came up with was not Santana, but Grey's Anatomy, a TV show that had utilized the word to its very extent and he had to laugh at the thought of Rachel Berry and him starring in the show. If the recurring plots were any indication, he should probably be making out with her right now, then turn gay again and leave her alone and hurt, until she found her true soul mate in a soon-to-be dying stranger. But they weren't in a TV show, and Rachel looked like she would lung at him any minute now if he didn't stop laughing, so he did.

Another shriek from Rachel and a high-pitched "seriously?" (she really had perfected that high F) and he realized he should probably add something to his statement. Also, if Santana was involved in whatever was going on, he needed to tread carefully, because while Rachel was known for being straight-forward, tactless and driven to the point of aggravating everyone around her by her sheer presence, she was also too nice for her own good and unexpectedly self-conscious. Vulnerable as she was at the moment, Santana would have a field day.

"Look", he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business. Just forget I said anything. Let's pretend I never said anything."

"I'm not making a scene. I'm not", she emphasized.

"I know. I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted you to, I don't know, count to ten or something like that. So you can calm down, ok?"

"Counting to ten is what got me into this mess in the first place."

"What does that mean?"

And then she told him. And when she was done, it was completely silent in the room, which shouldn't have come as a surprise. She was all talked out and he was speechless. Silence was absolutely logical. But Kurt felt like there should be noise. Like the sound of a car crash or a plane starting or people shouting or – probably the most fitting – some kind of soundtrack. Because this story? Total movie material. Especially when the door flung open and an angry Santana Lopez walked up to them, completely ignored him, took Rachel's arm and dragged her out. The last thing he heard was "One week! You knew it was bad advice and you still followed it for a whole week! What's wrong with you? We're going to fix this! Right now!"


	2. Chapter 2

The next part…hope you enjoy it. Reviews would be appreciated. After my last story, someone asked me to write more Pezberry friendship…this story will have lots of it, although the friendship part only comes later :)

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 1**

_One week earlier…_

If one was to compile a list of things that irritated Santana Lopez, a great amount of time would be needed. As it was, on Monday mornings at McKinley High during Spanish (and why was it that she had to attend that class?) Santana Lopez herself had that kind of time. So once a week she worked on that list and let it grow, grow, _grow_ to an infinite length. She didn't think she'd ever use her Spanish class for something else. There were countless things that annoyed her, angered her, made her want to bang her head on a hard surface. Or bang other people's heads on a hard surface. Repeatedly. She liked the list. It was tangible evidence of how much patience and restraint she actually executed each and every day.

Artie making eyes at Brittany, Mr. Schuester being completely oblivious to anything he didn't deem important enough, Finn yet again proving his Finneptitude, Coach Sylvester mocking her, Quinn not getting her head out of her ass. And Rachel Berry. While most other people were featured several times on Santana's list, Rachel's name only came up once. Because other people irritated Santana by what they did and said, but Rachel Berry…that girl was the definition of annoyance, in _everything_ she did and said. She actually deserved her own list, but Santana wouldn't put that much time and effort into something that concerned the diva, not even during her completely useless Spanish class.

But in the hallway after class, after having observed – eavesdropped on – another pointless, forced, completely gone-wrong conversation between the midget and Quinn (if one could even call what the two of them did having a conversation) she considered adding another Rachel bullet to her list. Because while the girl herself was a nuisance, Rachel Berry talking took things to a whole new level.

Before she could think about why on earth she didn't just walk away, her feet had taken her to stand in front of Rachel, who immediatly opened her mouth to say something. Santana held up a hand to stop her, partly because she just didn't care what the smurfette would have to say, and partly because she already had a headache. „Listen, midget, why don't you try something new for a change? Like keeping your mouth shut?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the Latina. „Are you referring to my conversation with Quinn?"

„I'm referring to your inability to stay quiet in general." But the thing with Quinn she was curious about, too. Why did they try so much? Hadn't they learned anything from the past years, except new insults and new ways to hurt each other? Granted, it was mostly Rachel trying, but Quinn didn't stop her. Yes, it was their Senior year, and Santana got that no one wanted to part on bad terms. But couldn't they see they were a disaster waiting to happen?

„First of all, that's not new. I keep silent plenty of times when I actually want to say something. I understand that it's not always necessary or even helpful to speak my mind. Second, why are you giving me advice? I thought it was a source of pleasure for you to see me fail at human interaction."

„It is. But it's also a little tiring. Has anyone ever told you it's like groundhog's day with you?"

Rachel's mind flashed back to the band room, Quinn, the Piano, and a conversation she really didn't want to remember. „Yes."

„So why don't you turn a new leaf?"

„I realize my penchant for having faith and hope and saying what I think is considered a character flaw by many people, but as I said, I already refrain from speaking up a lot of times. It's not something I like to do, but I do understand it sometimes makes things easier, if only for others and not for myself."

Ugh…there she went with the chapter-long answers again. „Well, then find some middle ground. Like, I don't know, wait before you say something. Think it over."

„You mean cencor myself?"

Santana rolled her eyes. „No, I guess that would be too much to ask."

„I'd rather say nothing at all than something I don't mean. People already do that too much. I don't want to be a person who says things just to please others. I don't want to pretend."

Really, now? „You don't regret some of the things that come out of your mouth?"

„Why would I? If it was right at the time I said it, if I meant it the moment I said it, why would I regret it later?" Having said her piece, Rachel turned to her locker, expecting Santana to drop the subject and go on with whatever it was that she usually did inbetween classes. Making freshmen cry, catching up on the newest rumours, planning to ruin someone's life, making out with Brittany. All things she'd rather stay away from. But Santana stayed where she was, silently fuming at the diva turning her back, but adamant at getting her point across.

„Maybe later it's not the truth anymore. Mayber later your opinion or facts have changed, and what you said before is not true anymore."

Rachel thought about that. She took pride in the fact that she always spoke from the heart, but Santana had a point – she had said some things in the past that were not true anymore. She had no problem voicing her altered opinion. She didn't mind admitting when something changed and her prior stance did not fit the current circumstances. But maybe none of that was necessary if she didn't comment everything all the time.

„Think before you speak", she muttered to herself.

„Exactly."

„Still, I don't feel comfortable…"

„We can call it Project Count To Ten if you'd feel better about it. Work on your restraint, your patience. See how it works out." Restraint and patience…for Santana, that was her list. For Rachel, it would be ten seconds per statement less speaking. Less headache for everyone around her. She was a genius. If Rachel agreed, Santana would be a hero – getting Rachel to cut down on her rants? Maybe she should try her hand on curing cancer next. Sure, the midget probably wouldn't be able to keep it up for long, but the girl was the epitome of determination. They'd all get at least a couple of days of peace and quiet before she gave up.

For Rachel, Project Count To Ten was a signed deal the moment Santana titelt it as such. Now it wasn't an adjustment of her character anymore, it was a project, and that played right into Rachel's passion. It was something she could plan, organize, have control over.

She wanted to do this.

„Okay?", Santana asked.

A nod.

„You agree?"

Another nod.

„Rachel?" A beat, then „Are you counting to ten in your head?"

A few seconds passed. „Yes, Santana, that is exactly what I was doing."

„Great." The sarcasm was evident, but not biting.

„I'll update you on how it's working."

„If you must."

„Thank you Santana."

„Don't mention it."

„Expressing gratitude for someone's aid is only polite."

„No, I mean it. Don't mention it. To anyone. I have a reputation." With that, she walked away, leaving a contemplative Rachel behind. When she rounded the corner, Brittany was there waiting for her. „What's up?"

„This is going to be so much fun."


	3. Chapter 3

_Day one of the project and Rachel's already sick of it. And the real trouble hasn't even begun yet…_

_As always, reviews would be appreciated. Also, I'll be glad for any suggestions you might have for this story. I'll do whatever I can to please you._

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 2**

Day 1…

„Rachel, are you sick or something?"

The girl in question closed her eyes and willed the frustration bubbling up inside of her to go away. It wasn't Artie's fault her day had been hell so far. He didn't know that she was this close to screaming. He had no idea she'd already been asked that question or a variation of it a dozen times in the few hours since she was up. It was not his fault. It was Santana's. If the manipulative Latina hadn't suggested that stupid project and tricked her into agreeing to it, she'd have had a normal day.

The day before she'd gone home with Santana's words still in her head. She didn't regret their conversation or the outcome of it, but she worried about how it all was actually going to play out. Lying in her bed, unable to shut off her brain and sleep, she'd resolved to just having to wait and see. And see, she did. Or rather, _hear_, because the first thing her dad said to her that morning was „Honey, are you alright?" and her daddy had followed with „Do you feel okay?". She knew where that was coming from. Usually, she'd be up and talking a mile a minute before her dads even had their first cup of coffee, but she was trying to follow her new mantra of Count To Ten, and she still wasn't perfectly clear on how she was supposed to execute it. Was she allowed to speak when she wanted to or did she have to wait for someone to ask her something or start a conversation? Did she only have to count to ten in those cases, or everytime she said anything at all? Wouldn't it be extremely rude to not wish her parents a good morning when she saw them in the kitchen simply because she was busy counting? And those questions only covered the _when_ of the whole thing. When? After ten seconds. But what about the _what_? If she wanted to tell one of her fellow Glee members that her voice would be better suited for the solo Mr. Schuester would assign and counted to ten before voicing her thoughts, would it be okay to say it then? Or was she supposed to use those ten seconds to change her mind about what she was actually going to say or at least find a way to express it differently than she would have? This thing already gave her a headache, and she wasn't even out of the house yet.

At school, it only got worse. „Do you need to sit down?" from Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell in the hallways when she had greeted her and Rachel had only stared back, mouth open, unsure her mantra applied to this situation. „If you're going to be sick, do it somewhere else", from Mercedes when she'd asked Rachel a question for their next Glee assignment and the girl had just lowered her eyes to the ground, nails painfully pressing into her palms, wishing for those damn ten seconds to pass soon. Then the absolute highlight of her day so far: „Are you pregnant?" from a suspicious Finn, when she'd almost forgotten about her rule and flung her hands in front of her mouth to keep the too-soon words from coming out and then to her belly when the reality of her situation made her stomach churn.

„Rachel? I asked if you were sick?"

She didn't know how much time had passed, but she figured her inner turmoil had kept her occupied long enough for ten seconds to be over. „Thank you Artie, but I'm perfectly fine."

He nodded and rolled into the band room, Rachel following closely behind him. Two hours of Glee practise would surely calm her down enough to get over the fact that she hated what she had gotten herself into. And then she would have a word with Santana about the intent behind her advice, because, really? This was not working smoothly at all. But that would come later. First, she'd enjoy the best thing she had in her life right now: Glee.

„…and we need someone to put together the arrangement for our performance for the parent's association next week. Any volunteers?"

This was torture.

How on earth was she supposed to not let her hand shoot up immediately and shout „I'll do it"? Keep calm, think before you say something. Right. She didn't need to think about this. Not for one second, and certainly not for ten. Okay, then don't think, just wait ten freaking seconds and then stand up and tell him you'll do it. _Oh god_…

1…mississippi…

2…please let this be over soon…

3…mississippi…

4…oh holy mother of…

5…mississippi…

6…mississippi…

7…I should so get a prize for this…

8…mississippi..

9…why is Santana looking at me like that?...

10…she's smirking…smirking! She's having fun with my misery!...

11…mississippi…

„Well, I expected Rachel to fall all over herself to get to do this, but I'll gladly volunteer. I already have a few ideas."

What? No!

„Mr. Schuester, I…"

„Rachel, you had your chance. Kurt is going to do the arrangement. I'm sure he would appreciate some input from you, but he's in charge."

No, no, no, no!

„I didn't…"

„We're finished for today. Good work guys, see you on Wednesday."

As the people filed out, Rachel stormed over to Santana. „This is your fault!"

The cheerleader seemed unaffected by the accusation. „How is it my fault?"

„I lost my chance at arranging our performance to Kurt because I did what you told me to do!"

„How many seconds did you count?"

„I…what?"

„How many seconds did you count?", Santana calmy repeated her question.

„Eleven", came the defeated reply.

„I didn't know you were that bad at maths." Her trademark grin was in place but her tone lacked it's usual smugness.

„I'm not…you distracted me", Rachel defended herself.

„Yeah? How did I do that?

„You smirked."

„My facial expression is so distracting to you?" Oh, there was the smugness.

„You smirked in my direction."

„Oh, I don't know about that, but Brittany had her hand up my…"

„Okay! I get it!" She really did not need to know about that. „I need to get home, but don't think we won't be coming back to that conversation. In the meantime, I'll try to be more focused; not let myself get distracted. I'll see you tomorrow."

„And the diva has left the building", Santana mumbled.

„She's really not that bad", Brittany's voice came from behind her. She wrapped her arms around her best friend/girlfriend/whatever they were at moment and then kissed her cheek. „I talked to Quinn."

„Yeah? How did it go?"

„She's going to do it soon. She just needs the perfect song."

„Great." The light kisses to her neck and the circles Brittany drew on her back let her mind wander to places in which this conversation had no importance, but the blonde didn't seem to notice or care.

„San?"

„Yeah, Brit?"

„Do you think it's wise to make Rachel change something that is so totally her when Quinn is preparing this big „I'm sorry I was always such a bitch to you"-thing for her?"

„At least she's not going to ruin it with her incessant talking."

„Okay…San?"

„Yes, Brit?"

„I didn't have my hand up your anything."

„I know. Let's rectify that."


	4. Chapter 4

_So…first appearance of Quinn. And more Santana & Brittany, because they're hilarious. _

_I know where I'm going with this story and what's going happen, but I would still really like to hear your suggestions and work them in if possible._

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 3**

Day 2…

The second day of Rachel's project – Santana's advice, which would surely turn out as some kind of evil plan in the not too distant future – started off slightly better than the first. People still shot each other confused looks when Rachel stayed quiet for longer periods of time, but no one questioned her on her unusal behaviour anymore. She guessed they'd all adopted the same point of view she'd heard Mercedes mutter about when the other girl had thought she was out of earshot: „Don't try to analyze it, just enjoy it while it lasts."

And they really seemed to enojy it. Overall, people were nicer to her, actually directing their words at her instead of ignoring her presence in fear of starting her off on a rant. In turn, Rachel herself felt more involved and her motivation to follow her new mantra grew. But there were still times it hurt her almost physically to count ten full seconds (_ten_, and not a single one more), her mind bursting with things she wanted to say, and she felt like weeks had passed instead of days. She began to measure everything in spans of ten seconds, and the figure was so ingrained in her she began to see it everywhere. She'd even dreamed about a giant ten chasing her. During class, teachers thought she was slacking off when she was asked a question and didn't answer. Ten seconds after the fact, no one wanted to hear what she had to say anymore, just like the day before at Glee. That was what really bothered her: ten seconds was simply too long. Not only for her self-restraint, but also for the people talking to her. After ten seconds, they either lost interest, had walked away, or reprimanded her for being rude, not paying attention or not having studied.

She'd thought about telling everyone about her project so they would understand, but she'd just as quickly dismissed the thought as it came up. She figured no one would care anyway, and explaining Santana's role would not only have people questioning her sanity (more than usually) but also put the Latina on a warpath against her. She had made clear that no living being was to ever find out she was involved in this, and while Santana didn't make her cower in fear anymore, she wasn't stupid. Messing with Santana equaled a death wish.

She desperately wished for the weekend to come, to offer her some reprieve of her tiring week. On Monday she'd had her conversation with Santana, on Tuesday she'd started with Operation This Is Going To Kill Me (her new, much more fitting name for Project Count To Ten) and now she was on Wednesday. Two more days before she could hide from the people around her and her own decisions (three, really, because this day was far from over), which meant two more meetings for Glee, one on Thursday and one on Friday. Usually, she'd be looking forward to Glee, but she was in an unusal situation. Glee joined all the people that normally bothered speaking to her, which meant much more stress for her than during the other parts of her days.

But she wouldn't give up. She wanted to, but she wouldn't. Not before having another talk with Santana. The sneaky cheerleader had so far succeeded in avoiding her, which would be totally fine, considering that was how things normally were. But again, this was an unusal situation, and Santana had been the one to seek her out on Monday, not the other way around, and she had voluntarily offered advice. If she hadn't been so confused by everything that was going on and focused on how it was going to affect her, she would've probably rememberd to search the sky for flying pigs. Maybe hell had frozen over, too, but she had no way of knowing. Maybe she'd ask Santana if it was cold in her room.

„Rachel, do you think you could come over today and help me with the arrangement for our performance? It's great to be in charge of this, and I appreciate you not throwing a fit, but I could really use your thoughts."

_Yes, Kurt, of course I will help you. I feel honoured you'd ask for my help. And I will tell you so in approximately seven seconds. _

„Rachel? Did you hear me?"

She nodded her head, but obviously, that didn't please Kurt.

„Listen, if you want to give me the silent treatment because you're angry I was put in charge, you can do that all by yourself. I'm not going to stand here and watch you being an envious, stubborn little brat." And off he was.

_Argh._ She was going to have to rename this to Project I Want To Hit Something Badly From All This Frustration. Or hit _someone_, she thought, as Santana brushed past her, Brittany in tow. She followed the two of them to the girl's restroom and took a deep breath in preparation, steeling herself against what she was sure was going to be an onslaught of insults as soon as she voiced her complaints and suspicions. Pushing the door open, she looked around an saw nothing. She shook her head, briefly considering she'd started to hallucinate from all the pressure her brain was under, but then she heard giggling from one of the stalls and took another step into the room. Kneeling down, she saw two pairs of feet shuffling around in the middle stall. What on earth were they doing? Scratch that, she knew _what_ they were doing, but _how_ were they doing it? There was barely enough space in there to turn around when you were alone, but _this_? Either they'd done a lot of yoga sessions or her knowledge on sex seriously lacked. But that was beside the point at the moment – she had something to say and she was going to say it, as embarrassing as it was going to be with the two of them doing what they were doing. At least they'd have the door as a barrier between them – it wasn't like she could actually walk in on them, anyway. There was no way a third person would fit in there.

„Santana!"

She heard a groan (Santana) and another giggle (Brittany), a loud thud, and then a slightly breathless _Oh god_. Wether it was from pain or pleasure, Rachel couldn't make out, but she wasn't going to be dissuaded.

„I need to talk to you."

„You cannot be serious. I'm in the middle of something here."

„I realize that, but it is of great importance that we talk now. I am not all that clear on the details of lesbian sex, but as we only have a few minutes of our break left, I'm sure you couldn't possibly…"

„If you're trying to tell me I can just as well talk to you because I won't be going to have enough time to get off anyway, I'm coming out there and show you exactly what I can accomplish in a few minutes."

Rachel blanched. „I hardly…"

„That's enough, you…"

A muffled _be nice_ cut off the Latina's words, followed by a crash and another groan, this time easily identified as an expression of pain.

„Are you alright?", Rachel asked in concern.

„I'm reconsidering wanting to join the mile high club. I have bruises in places I didn't even know you could bruise", came the deadpan reply.

„How can we help you, Rachel?", Brittany chirped.

„I'm not sure I can do this", the diva sighed.

„We aren't asking you to join in."

Apparently, Santana didn't appreciate the coitus interruptus. She made a mental note to remember that for future reference and then shuddered at the thought of ever needing that information again. „You know what I'm talking about. Mission WHIGMI is driving me insane."

„Mission what now?"

„WHIGMI. What Have I Gotten Myself Into."

„You retiteld the project?"

_Just three or four times._ „What's more important is that I don't think it's working the way it should."

There was a hiss and a laugh, and then silence.

Were they…? „What are you doing?"

„Nothing." A sigh, but not of the exasperated kind, and more groaning. „Why do you think it's not working?"

„Well, because…" Things got louder in the stall and distracted her from her train of thought. _They wouldn't seriously…?_ „I just…Santana, are you listening?"

„Yeah…go on."

„Who do you mean? Brittany or me?" Amusement temporarily won over indignation and Rachel grew bold. „Because _I_ am not stopping."

„Brittany isn't either", Santana informed her.

„Tell us why it's not working", Brittany encouraged. Apparently, the blonde knew how to multitask.

„For the most part, people seem to like the change. But some are also impatient or angry when I take too long to open my mouth."

„Counting…._ahhh_..to eleven again…_yesss_…_ohh_…are we?"

„Santana…"

„You shouldn't…_oh god_..give up…_ahhh_…just…_holy mother of_…yet…"

This was getting ridiculous.

„After all…._ahhh_…you haven't…_oh my_…"

„For all that is holy, stop with the foreplay already!"

„Am I interrupting something?"

„Quinn!", Rachel shrieked, fearing a heart attack at the sudden appearance of the other girl.

The head cheerleader raised a sceptical eyebrow. „Were you listening to Brittany and Santana having, you know…"

_1…of course not!..._

_2…well, yes, but…_

_3…I tried to get them to stop!…_

_4…say something, Santana…_

_5…on second thought, please don't say anything…_

„Rachel?"

_6…why, oh why…_

_7…this is not going to end well…_

_8…stop looking at me like that…_

„Rachel?"

_9…just one more…_

_10…yes!..._

„I'm sorry, I was momentarily stunned. I merely wanted to freshen up when I heard them…doing…what they were doing. I suppose the freakout was uncalled for. It just took me by surprise."

There. Almost no stuttering, no endless rant, no nonsense, no foot-in-mouth-syndrome. _Please say it worked?_

Quinn's frown turned into a full-blown grin. „Yeah, I get that. The first few times in the Cheerio's locker room I reacted the exact same way. You get used to it, I guess. Not sure that's a good thing, though."

Rachel grinned right back. „It surely never gets boring at McKinley High."

„You're right about that." Suddenly, Quinn's expression grew nervous. „I'll…see you in Glee tomorrow?"

„Of course, I'm looking forward to it", Rachel nodded. „We'll also see eacht other in two classes before that."

„Right."

„Have a good day, Quinn."

„You, too. See you in Glee. And before that. But Glee will be great." Unexpected as it may be, shy was a cute look on Quinn. And was there a blush?

„I'm sure of that."

„Okay, then…bye."

„Goodbye, Quinn."

With Quinn gone, Rachel turned back to the only occuppied stall and opened to door. It briefly registered that for her to be able to open the door, it must have been unlocked, but she really didn't want to know about how exhibitionist the two girls actually were. She was greeted with two – fully dressed, _thank god_ – cheerleaders and a thumbs-up from the nicer of the two.

„That went well", Santana commented.

„Yes", Rachel agreed, grin still in place.

„So you were saying?"

„What?" What had she been saying before Quinn came in?

„About this project not working?", Santana prompted.

_Oh, that._ „You know, I think I may have judged too soon. I mean, it's only been two days, right? I'm sorry for the unnessecary interruption, really." She couldn't decipher the look on Santana's face, but she thought it might be triumph.

„Great. Apology accepted. Anything else?"

„No. Thank you for your time. I'll be seeing you."

„Yes, in Glee", Brittany nodded enthusiastically, grinning at Rachel's parting figure.

Once she closed the restroom door behind her, Rachel took a heavy breath and let the sea of students and their chatter wash over her. Maybe this idea would turn out to be a really great thing. At the very least, it was not a bad thing. Not when it got Quinn and her to have a decent conversation. Not when it brought that look to Quinn's face. No, it wasn't bad at all.

In the middle stall of the girl's restroom, Santana Lopez looked thoughtful. „What's going to happen tomorrow in Glee?"

Brittany pecked her lips. „Why are you asking?"

„Because Quinn was all like _oh, I'll see you in Glee, it will be great_. And you mentioned Glee, too."

„We just really like Glee."

„Brittany." She knew her girlfriend couldn't resist the use of her full name and the stern look.

„Quinn is going to do it tomorrow."

„Really?"

„Yeah. She found the perfect song."

„And I bet the fact that they just had a normal conversation helped, too."

„Yes. You're doing a good thing, Santana."

„Yeah…we'll see how it's going to play out."

„Tomorrow."

„In Glee."

„Wouldn't miss it for the world."


	5. Chapter 5

_Special thanks to __**stix04**__ for reviewing every single chapter. You made my day._

_To __**youtellme**__: I've tried it too, but all I ever got in return was „are you off in la-la-land?" and „did you go into shock?"…_

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 4**

Day 3…

Another day, another success. Or, well, you know, not a total failure. Many people had given up on talking to her, never getting an answer in return. If they'd just wait around, they'd realize _never_ was actually _ten seconds later_, but she couldn't fault them for not having that kind of patience. Still, it was kind of remarkable – when she was still an obnoxious talk-machine (Puck's words) they would complain, but eventually come back for more. Who would have thought that Rachel Berry not speaking was even more frustrating? And those who were still trying to converse with her got tired of it soon. After all, not everything had changed, and she was still very much the person she was before Santana decided to turn her world upside down with a simple piece of advice. She'd never gotten around to offering her help to Kurt after their fight. He'd approached her again about it the same day, but her thoughts had been occupied with Quinn, counting to ten, and, strangely enough, images of Santana and Brittany in a yoga class. Therefore, not much had been said, Kurt had again left her standing, and Rachel had concluded that Artie had been perfectly right in his assessment of angry storm-outs. The more often you executed them, the more they lost in effect.

Up to that point, her day _had_ been a total failure. But then Quinn happened. And just like the day before in the restroom, they'd had a nice conversation and Quinn even had that look on her face again that she couldn't quite place but that was just so endearing. Then, after their second class together, they'd talked again, and it made Rachel rename her project yet again, only this time to the much more positive sounding Mission Do Whatever You Need To Do To Get More Of _This_. She'd have to work on her titling skills, sure, and it was kind of pathetic to read so much into a few nice words of her former arch enemy, and, really, how long would it last? Why was it even so important to her? But she simply couldn't be concerned with any of that. Not when Quinn was blushing and complimenting her and acting even more nervous than during Brittana's perv-show.

Her day was a success because her hard work (biting back the words that so desperately wanted to escape her mouth, collecting herself, calming her energetic mind and then – only then – speaking in short, clear sentences was _unbelievably hard_ work) had finally paid off. It worked. Granted, it only seemed to work on Quinn, but that was more than enough. And yeah, something wasn't quite right about that, because Quinn shouldn't matter that much, but her usually analytical mind refused to question her feelings on that matter. Instead she found herself agreeing with yet another member of the Glee Club. Mercedes' motto of „don't question it, just enjoy it" was simple to follow when you weren't ready for the answers anyway.

And then there was the fact that she couldn't help but feel that the last few days had been some kind of build-up. Like something big was about to happen that wouldn't be happening if she hadn't talked to Santana and followed her advice. She'd always prided herself on her sixth sense even if it let her down sometimes, but this time it was not just a feeling. There was hard evidence that _something_ was going on.

First of all, why had Santana even bothered speaking to her on Monday, let alone tried to help her? That had never happened before, so what was different this time? Maybe the Latina had been tired of watching her fail at human interaction, but if that was all, she would've said her piece and then went back to ignoring her again. But she hadn't bitten her head off for seeking her out several times in the last few days, even if she didn't welcome her with open arms. Santana had a hidden agenda, of that she was sure. For whatever reason, she was at least a little bit invested in what she had started, and that meant more was to come.

Then there was Brittany, who suddenly made it a point to send her winks, waves and grins across the hallways. Granted, Brittany had always been nice, but to Rachel it had mostly been in passing and never so frequently. Maybe it was the fact that Santana and Rachel found themselves in each other's vicinity much more often now, walking to class alongside each other (not _with_ each other, _next to_ each other, Santana emphasized) that made Rachel fair game for Brittany's affections, but she was sure the blonde was in on whatever went on behind the scenes.

Another clue was the whispering. Well, the whispering combined with glances at her. In itself, that wasn't really new. She was short and loud, dressed in argyle and sang in Glee Club – whispers and glances had become so normal to her over the years that half of the time she didn't even realize it any more when someone was really _looking_ at her instead of glancing at her or _talking_ to her instead of whispering about her. What was new was the fact that Santana, Brittany and Quinn did the whispering and glancing. The three of them usually were nothing if not forward. They'd never held back on anything where she was concerned. Whispering and glancing was simply not needed when you felt free to openly do anything you wanted your target.

Now, though? She caught _I'm so excited about this_ whispered into Quinn's ear by Brittany, both of their eyes set firmly on her. She saw Santana nudging Quinn out of the corner of her eyes and the blonde standing beside her five seconds later, asking her about her day. A flash in the mirror of a pleased looking and nodding Santana behind her when she was freshening up her make-up in the school's bathroom and humming happily. When she found herself slushie free even after she swore she'd seen a jock advance on her with the cold beverage in hand, she looked around and found each member of the Unholy Trinity suspiciously close and busying themselves with shoelaces (Brittany), an Alcohol Awareness Week poster on a wall (Santana) and books (Quinn).

And then there was Quinn herself. The girl had been making an effort for some time now, even before that fateful Monday, but never before did she have that air of shyness around her. And never before had she seen Quinn so often in one day than she did this week. It wasn't like Quinn actively sought her out, or at least it didn't seem like it, but circumstances brought them together much more often now, the two of them bumping into each other in between classes or two seats next to each other the only ones vacant when people suddenly decided they wanted to sit somewhere else entirely. Quinn didn't seem to mind and Rachel certainly wouldn't complain, either. She liked Quinn, there was no way around that. Just like she'd told her at prom, she was the prettiest girl she'd ever met, but she was also much more than that. But crushing on someone who was so completely unattainable (even more unattainable than Finn or Mr. Schuester or any other crush she'd ever had, because this was _Quinn Fabray_ for crying out loud!) was something not even Rachel Berry would undergo willingly, so she'd never even come close to entertaining the thought of her and Quinn becoming more than maybe, possibly friends. Even that concept was a little hard to grasp when you looked at their prior interactions with each other.

So there it was, her hard evidence and her feelings and she didn't know what it all meant, but it had to mean _something_. Something was happening that she wasn't aware of, and something even bigger would be happening. Soon. Because if this was build-up, the big bang couldn't be too far away.

And if she was right, wouldn't it be fair to get a little heads-up? Who in their right mind would expect her of all people to just sit back and let things go their way? Was she being played? Left in the dark about some important…

„Hey, Rach, you're drifting off into space again. Do you feel okay? You know, I really think that if you'd be eating meat, you'd feel much better. It has so much…you know, stuff…that is good for the body."

Finn. Why had she wanted to date him again?

„I'll have you know that…"

Before she could even really start her rant about the pros and cons of vegetarianism, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled away from Finn. She wanted to scream, break free, but a hissed _shut up, smurfette_, _and stop fucking kicking me_ revealed Santana as her capturer, and she let herself be dragged around the next corner.

„What do you think you are doing?"

She didn't respond, instead widening her eyes at Santana's hand still on her mouth. The Latina quickly took a step back, wiping her hand on her Cheerio's skirt, and waited.

„I was just speaking to Finn."

„I know", Santana rolled her eyes. „He said something to you, and what did you do?"

„I answered him", Rachel replied, not getting the point.

„And what should you have been doing?"

Ups. „Oh."

„Yeah, oh. Don't tell me you've given up?" Strangely enough, she looked genuinely worried.

„No, I was simply lost in thought and didn't think of it. I'm still very much committed to counting to ten."

„Good." Was that a sigh of relief?

„Why do you care so much?" It was a valid question, Rachel thought. Santana probably wouldn't give her a straight answer, but if she wanted to get to the bottom of things, she'd at least have to try.

„I don't care. I couldn't care less. I don't. Care, I mean. At all. Nothing could be further from my mind than caring about this. Or you." Well, that was convincing. Denial and awkward rambling. For a moment there, she'd sounded like a combination of Rachel and Quinn.

„You don't care. Okay."

„Right. I just wanted to make sure."

„But you don't care."

„Exactly." Where was Brittany when you needed her?

„So, if I were to stop now, you wouldn't care either way?"

„Why would you stop?"

„I was speaking hypothetically."

„Hypothetically speaking, I wouldn't care. But I would still advise you to keep going a little longer."

„How long? Hypothetically speaking?"

„You'll know."

„Will I?"

„Yes."

„But how?"

„Okay, you know what, let's cut the crap. Someone is going to do something nice for you. And you'll make it easier on them of you're not your usual obnoxious self. So just wait for that and then you can do whatever you want."

„Someone is going to do something nice for me?"

„That's what I said."

„A grand gesture?"

„I'm not telling you more than that."

„And you don't care. But you want this to work?"

„I just don't want you to fuck anything up. I don't care, but fuck it up and I'll hurt you."

Rachel thought for a moment. Then, she smiled.

„You're a romantic."

Santana looked appalled at that.

„I'm badass."

„That's what you want people to believe, but you're really just a fluffy ball of mush encased in a hard exterior."

„I. Am. Badass."

„No, you're…"

„I'll prove it to you. Say something to me."

„What?"

„Say something to me, anything, and I'll give you a badass reply."

„I really don't think you need any more incentive to be mean to me. You've always made it perfectly clear that you don't like me."

„It's not that I don't like you. I just don't appreciate your existence."

„I get it. You're badass."

„Yeah. And morally flexible. Answer me this: what do you do when your boyfriend runs away from you in zig-zag?"

„What, Santana?"

„You keep shooting."

„I…what?"

„Are you full-time dumb or do I just have bad timing?"

„I think you made your point."

„Are you sure? Do you understand it now? I'm badass. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent. If I want to, I can rip you to shreds. Lady Badass: made in heaven, inspired by hell."

„Don't call yourself a lady, you've seen more beds than IKEA."

Uh oh. Had she really just said that? Was she insane? Was she going to die now? Santana was usually very easy to read: One eyebrow raised = _Did you really just say that?_ Two eyebrows raised = _Run_.

But Santana didn't raise her eyebrows. She didn't raise her arms to beat the crap out of her, either. She just stood there, and then, she laughed. She laughed and laughed and she couldn't seem to stop, and Rachel soon joined in, because Santana laughing from the heart? Totally contagious.

„You're not half bad, Berry."

„I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

„Just don't tell anyone."


	6. Chapter 6

_Two chapters in one day, because it was simply impossible for me to write chapter 4 without writing chapter 5, too. You would've gotten an update sooner, but I would've gone crazy. I value my readers, but I value my sanity more :)_

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 5**

Still Day 3…

„Breaking up with someone and then telling them _We can still be friends_ is about as encouraging as saying _Your dog died but you can keep it_."

„I don't have a dog."

„It was just an example, B."

„I would be sad if I had a dog and it died. But I'd be even more sad if my duck died."

„Same difference."

„Shut it, Mercedes."

„Will something happen to my duck, San? The thought makes me sad."

„No, of course not. You duck will be fine."

„Are you sure?"

„I promise."

„I'm still sad."

Santana sent a death glare to Mercedes, and Rachel tuned out. She was sure that Brittany understood her telling Artie _I'm with San now, but you're a great friend and I like riding you_ (_as in_ _sitting_ _on your lap, in your wheelchair, cruising through the halls_, went unsaid but surely that was what the girl had been referring to) a few weeks back wasn't that much of a consolation to the boy. Brittany might be living in her own little world at times, but she understood people, and the apologetic looks she sometimes sent Artie before taking Santana's hand spoke volumes about her grasp on the situation. Mercedes was trying to make her see things she already knew, probably because she was bored without Kurt there to gossip with (he'd claimed a doctor's appointment, but she suspected more of a Blaine appointment), but only succeeding in aggravating Santana, and Rachel didn't need to hear any of that.

Glee practise was about to start and Quinn was nowhere in sight and something about that bothered Rachel. Not that she _needed_ Quinn to be there, of course. It was just an ordinary practise and Quinn was only one of about a dozen members. She'd expected Quinn to be there because it would only be logical for her to be there, as she was part of the club, and because she'd told Rachel _see you in Glee_ three more times since the day before, but not for any other reason than that. Not because Quinn had been acting strange, _nice_, and Santana had told her someone was going to do something nice for her. Not because she wished the change in the cheerleader's attitude meant something more. No. Definitely not because of that.

But then, when Quinn finally shot through the door a second before Mr. Schuester called the meeting to a start, she suddenly felt lighter, and, admittedly, also a little hopeful. She heard Santana mutter _coward_ under her breath and chose to ignore it. As it turned out, _wait and see_ was another statement she suddenly agreed with.

„Mr. Schuester, I have a song I'd like to perform."

_Wait and see_ just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

„Really, Quinn? That's wonderful", Mr. Schuester said, clearly as taken aback as the Gleeks in the room. Quinn hardly ever volunteered a song, opting to blend in the crowd instead. „Well, do you want to do it now?"

„Um, sure", Quinn nodded and got up to stand next to the piano. Santana and Brittany stayed seated, causing another surprised murmur to go through the group. Quinn had always either sung with a partner or with her two best friends as backup, but never completely alone. „So, uh, this is for someone special. I mean, this song is directed at a specific person. Not that this person isn't special, I mean, she…uhm…I just, you'll know what I mean. And who I mean. Hopefully. But it's pretty self-explanatory."

No one said anything, and Quinn just stood there staring at the ground, and Rachel couldn't take it anymore. „I'm sure it will be great." And it would be. No matter what Quinn would sing or who she would sing to, regardless of any hopes or preferences Rachel might have on that matter, it would be great. Rachel was convinced of this, and she tried to make her eyes and her voice convey that to Quinn.

Apparently, it worked, because she came out of her frozen state and with a wave of her hand she gave the sign for the music to start.

Three seconds in, realization hit Rachel like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense now, in a way it hadn't in a long time. This was it. The build-up was over. The questioning was over. It was all there in the first few chords. She saw everything clear. Because there was no way Quinn was singing this song to anyone else but her.

_When we were growing up_

_You always looked like you were having such fun_

_You always were and you always will be_

_The confident and talented one_

_When you sing, people love you_

_They gravitate towards you_

_That's why I started to hate you so much_

_And I'd just insult then ignore you_

The changed lyrics didn't go unnoticed by anyone, and Rachel felt tears spring to her eyes at the thought that Quinn had worked hard on this song to make it her own. To make it her confession. Her apology.

Gaining confidence, Quinn moved around the room, coming to stand in front of Rachel and taking her hand when she began the chorus.

_I don't know why I felt the need to keep it up for oh so long_

_It's all my fault, I'm sorry, you did absolutely nothing wrong_

_I don't know why I felt the need to drag it out for all these years_

_All the pain I've caused you_

_The constant flow of all the tears_

_Believe me when I say that I cannot apologize enough_

_When all you ever wanted from me was a token of my love_

_And if it's not too late _

_Could you please find it deep within you heart…_

_To try and go back, go back to the start?_

_Go back to the start…_

Her vision was clouded by her tears, but she swore she saw Quinn crying too. But she never faltered in her singing, belting the lyrics out with emotion. She'd cried once before during a performance - _Keep Holding On_ had hit so close to her heart that she'd giving up on singing and instead just mouthed the words, looking up to the ceiling. Not this time, though. This time her voice was strong and insistent and her eyes never left Rachel.

_I've been so evil with my constant invasions_

_And you made it so easy for me_

_You'd always rise to the occasion_

_I'd always pull you up on everything you would say_

_I didn't know how to stop_

_Messing around with your head_

_I don't know why I felt the need to keep it up for oh so long_

_It's all my fault, I'm sorry, you did absolutely nothing wrong_

_I don't know why I felt the need to drag it out for all these years_

_All the pain I've caused you_

_The constant flow of all the tears_

_Believe me when I say that I cannot apologize enough_

_When all you ever wanted from me was a token of my love_

_And if it's not too late _

_Could you please find it deep within you heart…_

_To try and go back, go back to the start?_

_Go back to the start…_

It was a surreal experience. She heard nothing except Quinn's voice and the melody in the background, and she saw nothing but Quinn, Quinn looking at her, Quinn singing to her. No other Gleeks joining in or throwing each other looks, no Mr. Schuester adding words of approval, no noise from outside the bandroom or Santana and Brittany high-fiving each other. There was nothing except Quinn and the music, and that was all that she needed. In a way, it was all she wanted.

_This is not just a song_

_I intend to put these words into action_

_I hope that it sums up the way that I feel_

_To your satisfaction_

_I don't know why I felt the need to keep it up for oh so long_

_It's all my fault, I'm sorry, you did absolutely nothing wrong_

_I don't know why I felt the need to drag it out for all these years_

_All the pain I've caused you_

_The constant flow of all the tears_

_Believe me when I say that I cannot apologize enough_

_When all you ever wanted from me was a token of my love_

_And if it's not too late _

_Could you please find it deep within you heart…_

_To try and go back, go back to the start?_

_Go back to the start…_

_Go back to the start…_

_Go back to the start…_

During the last rendition of the chorus, Quinn had been standing next to the piano again, but as the last words faded out, she was suddenly once more in front of Rachel. Her eyes were pleading and she repeated _Go back to the start_ again and again and again, even when the music stopped and the words lost the melody behind them and turned into an imploring whisper.

„That was amazing, Quinn", Mr. Schuester said, but even his bad timing couldn't ruin the moment.

Rachel shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to come up with something, _anything_, to say to Quinn that wasn't just a jumble of _Oh my god_ and _Of course we can start new_ and _That was so amazing_.

„I…"

„Tell me", Quinn encouraged when Rachel didn't say more.

And she wanted to. Really, really wanted to, but the second she opened her mouth again, she heard Santana's words in her mind. _Don't give up on our plan…someone is going to do something nice for you…I don't want you to fuck it up…_

And so Rachel did the only thing she knew worked with Quinn. She closed her eyes and counted.

_1…everything is going to be fine…_

_2…just a few more seconds…_

_3…think about it…_

_4…don't scare her away…_

_5…there goes my rule of not crushing on her…_

_6…what if I dreamed all this?…_

_7…it's too good to be true…_

_8…but it's real…_

_9…so help me god…_

_10…finally…_

When she opened her eyes, she was met with blue eyes staring back at her. Blue eyes that were…wait a minute…blue? _Quinn's eyes aren't blue…oh fuck_. A flash of red and white, Santana chasing after Quinn who was running out the door, Brittany's blue eyes filling with tears and her comforting hand on her shoulder as she helplessly watched the damage her silence had done.

„What have I done?", the diva cried, but it was only when Brittany replied with „I think you killed Quinn's dog" that she truly understood just how wrong things had gone. And in that moment, she wanted to kill Santana.

„What in Barbra Streisand's name is going on here?"

Of course Kurt would choose this moment to make his entrance.

„Santana Lopez is a dead woman", Rachel informed him, ignoring Brittany's disapproving look.

Suddenly everyone started speaking at once, but Kurt was experienced in gossip, and one look at the diva told him it would be her he'd get the whole story from. „Okay, everyone out!", he shouted. „Sorry, Mr. Schuester", he added when he heard the teacher clearing his throat.

„Kurt is right. Practise is over, you can all go. I'll leave you to it", he nodded to Kurt and Rachel.

One last pat on the back from Brittany, a few confused looks from her fellow teammates, a dirty grin from Puck, and then they were alone. And after about five minutes of watching Rachel Berry fume in passionate anger, Kurt just had to ask: „So…what's got you in such a mood?"

* * *

><p>A few classrooms down the hall, Quinn and Santana were sitting in silence. One of them was crying, the other one clenching her fists. How had this happened? Why had the dwarf ruined everything? Quinn had been singing her heart out and she just sat there, letting it wash over her, not saying one damn thing and leaving Quinn hanging. Couldn't she have at least said <em>something<em>? Everything would've been better than that defeating silence. Really, of all the times she chose to be quiet, did it have to be…_oh god. Oh fuck. Oh no no no no no…_What had she done? What had she been thinking? How could she not have seen this? How could she not have realized…? She knew why. Because she was Santana Lopez, and she rarely took responsibility for her actions. Sure, she was always honest about it when she played a prank or ratted someone out or set out to hurt someone. But when it was not intentional? When was truly sorry for fucking up? Not so much. And so she'd spent the last twenty minutes cursing Rachel instead of thinking about her own part in the whole thing. She was the one who told Rachel to act exactly the way she had acted. Rachel had trusted her. Quinn had trusted her. And everything went downhill.

„I'm sorry", she breathed.

„It's not your fault", Quinn sniffled.

„Yeah, no, it really is, Q."

For a while, neither girl said anything, but something in Santana's voice had alerted the blonde. She turned to take a good look at her best friend and took in the dejected expression.

„What did you do, Santana?"

„I sort of told Rachel to not say anything to your song."

„You WHAT?" In the blink of an eye, Quinn was up, the HBIC mask firmly in place. „You told her I would sing to her? And you told her to not react? I thought we were friends!"

„I just wanted to help!", the Latina shouted.

„How was that supposed to help?"

„It was easier for you talking to her this last week, wasn't it?"

„Explain." Her voice was void of emotion. She wanted to hear this, and then she would decide how she felt about it. Explanations first, feelings later.

„You planned this thing for her and Brit and I wanted to help."

„Brittany was in on this?" Of course she was. The two were a packaged deal.

„When we saw you trying to have a normal conversation, and failing at it, we decided that we should do something. I mean, singing that song was a great idea and all, but I just thought if you both were kinda friends before you did your thing, she'd be more receptive."

„I can see your point."

„So I told her that shutting up once in a while would make people like her more."

„You what?" Change of plan. Feelings first, explanations later. „What the hell, Santana? Do you need to insult the girl every chance you get?"

„Yes, well, she didn't really like the idea either."

Quinn scoffed. She could imagine how _that_ conversation went down.

„So we compromised on her counting to ten before saying anything. It worked. I mean, it didn't really, not on anyone else at least, but on you it did."

„Did it?"

„You said yourself that you felt talking to her was easier this week."

„Yeah, but I didn't…" know. She didn't know. Sure, she'd noticed something was different, but she'd thought it was her own courage that made the difference.

„I really only wanted to help." And she'd learned my lesson. Brittany could pout at her all she wanted, she was never helping anyone ever again.

„I believe you, S. You said it didn't work on anyone but me?"

„Everyone else was either angry or impatient with her. But she wouldn't give up. It worked on you and that was enough for her."

„Really?"

„Yeah. And because it worked so well, she stuck to her rule today in Glee, too."

„But she liked it? She did it because she forgives me? Because she wants to give us a shot at a real conversation about this?"

„Uh…I don't know exactly…I just…I told her someone was going to do something nice for her and to not fuck it up or I'd hurt her", Santana admitted, and then she covered her ears as Quinn screamed in frustration.

„By _not fuck it up_ you meant _not speak_, am I right?", the head cheerleader growled out.

The Latina only nodded. Words were overrated when everything you said made the whole you were digging for yourself deeper.

„Are you trying to sabotage my life?"

„It was a good plan!"

„No, it was a dumb plan!"

„I. Was. Just. Trying. To. HELP!"

„We're talking about Rachel Berry! What good can come of telling her to shut up?"

„You tell me! You were content with it the whole week!"

„I would've talked to her anyway! I like her! I've liked her before she counted to ten! It made things easier but that doesn't mean I would've given up!"

„Her ramblings give you headaches!"

„Her rambling is cute!"

Utter silence, then „When did that happen?" from a dumb-founded Santana.

„I don't know", Quinn said in an equally quiet voice. „It just did. I don't want her to change."

„I'm beginning to get that", Santana sighed. „We're going to fix this, okay?"

„Yeah? How are we going to do that?"

„I have an idea", the Latina grinned.

„Heaven help us…"

* * *

><p>Back in the band room, it was completely silent, which shouldn't have come as a surprise. Rachel was all talked out and Kurt was speechless. Silence was absolutely logical. But Kurt felt like there should be noise. Like the sound of a car crash or a plane starting or people shouting or – probably the most fitting – some kind of soundtrack. Because this story? Total movie material. Especially when the door flung open and an angry Santana Lopez walked up to them, completely ignored him, took Rachel's arm and dragged her out. The last thing he heard was "One week! You knew it was bad advice and you still followed it for a whole week! What's wrong with you? We're going to fix this! Right now!"<p>

He chuckeld to himself and went to pick up his things. When he turned back to the door, he came face to face with the last person he expected to see in that moment. The smirk on her face was unexpected and a little bit unsettling. „Kurt", Quinn said, her voice sweet. „Just the person I was looking for."

**The song is Back To The Start by Lily Allen :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I can't believe how often I used the word _plan_ in this, but…oh well. It _is_ a chapter about planning. By the way, I'm a control freak who has to have a plan for absolutely everything. It drives people around me nuts. But I also talk way too much (someone once told me that they think I'll only stop talking when I die – and probably not even then). And when you put obsessive planning and incessant talking together, you have a problem, because I believe that the one thing you cannot plan is what people say.

But you probably don't care about my totally disjointed author's note, so just forget you've ever read it. I just felt like telling you.

This really is a filler chapter, but it needed to be done. I listened to _Drumming Song_, _Cosmic Love_ and _Hurricane Drunk_ by _Florence and the Machine_ and _Dreaming Of You_ by _The Coral_ on repeat while writing this. Four hours later, I've got the words _the stars, the moon, they have all been blown_ out stuck in my head, and you have a new chapter. Go figure.

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 6**

Day 3…still…

A plan. He who fails to plan, plans to fail.

Plans and all its synonyms.

Tactics. Tactics mean doing what you can with what you have.

Preparations and strategies. When you're prepared, you're more confident; when you have a strategy, you're more comfortable.

Arrangements. Arranging things means having control.

A plan. Planning is bringing the future into the present so you can do something about now. A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow.

* * *

><p>"One week! You knew it was bad advice and you still followed it for a whole week! What's wrong with you? We're going to fix this! Right now!", Santana shouted, dragging Rachel into a storage closet. Was this dragging thing becoming a habit? "I have a plan, and you're going to do exactly as I say."<p>

"Oh, because that worked so well the last time?" The diva couldn't keep the anger out of her voice even if she wanted to. Santana's plans were a hazard, and she'd been caught right in the middle of it.

"Yes, well, this time Quinn knows about the plan. I'm just meddling with it."

* * *

><p>„Kurt", Quinn said, her voice sweet. „Just the person I was looking for." She took a predatory step closer to him, effectively cutting him off from the door. She didn't think he'd run, but she wasn't about to take any chances. This was too important. "I assume Rachel has told you about everything that happened. And now we have to fix this. I have a plan. But I need your help with it."<p>

Kurt shot her a skeptical look. "Is Santana involved? Because her planning seriously sucks. She lacks the finesse it takes to execute ideas. And, quite frankly, also the sensitivity required for matters of the heart. As proven by her last plan."

"Yes, well, this time Santana and I agree about the plan. And the finesse…that's where you come in."

* * *

><p>"You and I both fucked up", the Latina admitted. "I gave you bad advice and insisted on you following through with it, and you did, even when you should've known you shouldn't."<p>

"I didn't…", Rachel started to defend herself, slightly shocked that Santana had admitted to being at fault, if only partly.

"A whole week, Berry?" A raised eyebrow emphasized her point.

"It was three days", Rachel huffed.

"You don't usually need that long to realize something is a bad idea."

Well, that was true.

"You were convincing."

Santana sighed. "That's because I was sure it'd work."

* * *

><p>"Before you tell me about my part in what certainly is going to be an educational display of conniving planning", Kurt said, his voice carrying more boredom than excitement, "answer me this: did you truly not suspect for one moment that Santana had her own agenda when she so willingly spent time with Rachel these last few days?"<p>

"I thought she was just supporting me", Quinn replied.

He couldn't quite believe that. "By hanging out with Rachel?"

"By showing me she could be friends with her, too. By showing me having Rachel as part of our group could work. By showing me she was okay with this", Quinn explained, sounding absolutely sure of her words. Her assumptions had been wrong, she knew that now, but that didn't mean they were wrong in general. Santana was capable of being a good sport, regardless of her ulterior motives in this particular situation, and Quinn whole-heartedly believed even those ulterior motives were meant to help her. They were frenemies most of the time, but they were friends before that, and that had to count for something.

But Kurt didn't, couldn't, understand their friendship, and his trust in the Latina went about as far as he could throw her. "Are we talking about the same Santana Lopez?"

"You have to understand, Santana is a hands-on person. You know that saying _After all is said and done, a hell of a lot more is said than done_? Santana doesn't like talking, she likes action."

"She doesn't like talking? For years, she's been throwing insults at Rachel every chance she gets. So have you, for that matter."

Quinn sighed heavily. He wasn't wrong about that. "If Santana really disliked Rachel as much as she says, she would've _done_ something about it. She's mostly bark on no bite unless someone really pisses her off. As for me…I've been confused about what I want for a long time. I'm not anymore. I plan to fix things."

"Right. So what is it that you have planned?"

* * *

><p>"And this new plan – you're convinced about that one, too?", Rachel asked sarcastically. She wasn't usually very good at sarcasm, didn't really like to use it, but she supposed this situation screamed for it. Did anyone even know what was going on anymore? With all these plans and manipulations, people doing things for reasons only they knew about…she was so confused about it all that her usual straight-forwardness had been replaced by sarcastic words.<p>

"Give a girl a break, will you?" Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's really a good plan. It'll work out much better than the last one."

"Yes, because this time, you're going to tell me _all_ about it before we launch into anything."

"You're a control freak who can't stand people having secrets. But it was Quinn's place to tell you about the song, not mine. I told you enough. Need-to-know-basis ring any bells, Berry?"

Rachel shook her head and took a step back. This was not how this conversation was going to go, she decided. "We're not in the military, Santana. Call me by my first name and tell me everything."

"Or else?" It should have sounded threatening, but it wasn't lost on either of the girls that it sounded anything but.

Time to conjure up the poker face. "I'll tell Brittany you knowingly sabotaged Quinn's surprise for me just to hurt us both."

The Latina narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."

Of course not. "Try me."

"Brittany would never believe I'd hurt you just for fun." Her voice was even, but a slight shake of her hand gave her away.

"Are you sure about that? Are you one hundred percent certain she wouldn't at least doubt you intentions?"

* * *

><p>"Wait", Kurt stopped Quinn's explanation. "There's another thing I need to know."<p>

The blonde nodded at him continue, sensing what was about to come. He and Rachel had a rocky relationship, but he wanted to protect her, and she appreciated that. For all her bravado, even Rachel needed someone to protect her from time to time. Quinn wanted to be that person, but before that could happen, she needed to stop being the person Rachel needed protection from.

"What, exactly, are you intentions? You asked Rachel for forgiveness with that song, which, by the way, I applaud your courage for, but what comes after that? I mean, you have to know she's going to forgive you. Santana never even attempted to apologize, yet she and Rachel have been building a friendship over the course of a few days. What are you going to do when she sets you free of your guilt over your behavior?"

"I suppose we'll be friends." _God, I hope we'll be friends. Being friends would be a good start…_

"Friends who greet each other in the hallways and chat occasionally? Friends who sit next to each other during Glee and have private jokes? Friends who have sleep-overs and tell each other anything? Because there are many different types of friends, Quinn."

"I hope we're going to be good friends. Great friends. Hang out at each other's houses and maintain a strong bond even when we attend colleges far away from each other type of friends." _Please god, give me at least that. I know it's more than I deserve, but please…_

Kurt hesitated. "That's…nice."

His unconvinced answer didn't exactly help her anxiety. "You don't think it could work out?"

"Well", he said, watching her carefully. "It might be easier if you weren't in love with her."

* * *

><p>"I'm sure", Santana stated. "She wouldn't doubt me. She knows I was really just trying to help you both. She knows my intentions were good." Her confidence grew with every word. Brittany knew her. Brittany would know.<p>

"And why will she be so sure of that no matter what horrible story I'll tell her about you?" She willed the Latina to say it. To say what they both knew to be true, but had never been said out loud.

"Because…she…I…" A stuttering Santana Lopez? Apparently, miracles never ceased to happen.

"I want to hear it, Santana."

And then she gave in. "Because you're my friends and I like you, okay? Q is my best friend right after Brit, but nothing compares to her anyway, and you're…you've grown on me, kind of like cancer, a benign one. You're my friend now, too, and Brit knows I don't hurt my friends. I may be a bitch and I don't make things easy, but I don't hurt my friends. Not intentionally. Not if I can help it. Okay?"

It was much more than just okay. It was evidence of how far they had come. It was a silver lining in the chaos of the last few days. Despite the fact that things had gone wrong with Quinn, reaching an understanding with Santana gave her hope. It was one more step in the right direction. But she knew that she couldn't say any of that. Santana would probably have an aneurism from all the emotion.

"Okay. Thank you, Santana."

"Whatever."

"You've become a good friend to me, too, you know?"

"I don't care." There was a shrug, but also a hidden smile.

"I just thought you should know."

"I said I don't care."

"That's okay."

"Yeah. So…the plan?"

"Go ahead. I'm curious what you've come up with now."

* * *

><p>"Aren't you going to deny it?", Kurt asked when Quinn didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't react at all, simply staring at him with the same expression on her face she'd had when she asked him if he didn't think it would work out. Maybe his words hadn't caught up with her yet.<p>

"I…you…how…why would you think I…oh my god…I can't…"

Or she was going to pass out from shock.

* * *

><p>"Before I tell you what my brilliant mind has come up with, I have a question."<p>

"Yes?"

"You _are_ going to forgive Quinn, right?"

"I already have forgiven her. Quinn is…I've always admired her. I've tried to be her friend many times, if you don't remember. I was just waiting for her to want it, too. It's just, I don't know, I feel this pull towards her. Knowing she's genuinely sorry about the way she's been treating me in the past makes me feel better about the fact that I've never been able to hate her."

Slowly, the Latina nodded. Then she raised an eyebrow. "So…you're in love with her?"

For a moment, Rachel's breath halted. But when she regarded the other girl, something in her stance was off. And there was something in the way she had asked…There was no surprise, no real curiosity, it hadn't even sounded like a real question. There was also no indignation or amusement. No anything, really. Finally, it clicked. "You're asking that as if you don't already know."

Touché.

"I was just leading up to what I really wanted to ask."

"Which would be?"

Santana snapped her fingers. "When are you going to tell her?"

* * *

><p>As soon as she had her breath back, she shouted: "You can't tell anyone!" And then she hyperventilated again.<p>

"But _you_ should tell _her_", Kurt stressed. He'd only figured it out about five minutes ago, but that much was clear to even him.

"No way! Have you been here the last three years? Did you listen to anything I told in the past thirty minutes? I can't tell her! For weeks now, I've been trying to gather enough courage to apologize to her for treating her so badly! I was afraid to even ask friendship of her! What makes you think I can just walk up to her and tell her I have feelings for her?"

Good question. But they were talking about Rachel Berry after all. "You already have a grand plan for winning her affections. Make it about love instead of friendship."

* * *

><p>"Why would I tell her?", the diva asked, her tone conveying nothing but curiosity. "She just realized she wants to be friends with me. Can you imagine what would happen if I told her I wanted more?"<p>

But Santana wouldn't have any of it. "I already have this genius plan for you to fix the misunderstanding about the song. Right now she's with Kurt planning her own thing. Another song for you. But she's not really the one who needs to apologize this time, is she? I can give you the song, you'll learn it, and when she sings it to you, you'll surprise her by joining in. It'll be great. You'll both be emotional. You can tell her then. Make it about love instead of friendship."

* * *

><p>"But Santana is with Rachel right now, telling her about her part of the plan. I can't just change course of action like that! I can't just lay this on her! I can't risk this!" If she kept shouting like that, she'd lose her breath again.<p>

"You're telling me Santana is telling Rachel about your plan?"

Well, breathing was overrated anyway. "Yes! That was the plan! Keep up, Hummel!"

"Okay…what?"

"I was supposed to tell you everything and make you help me with the arrangements. I have a song, but I need you for the setting and the decorations. Santana is supposed to tell Rachel I want to do another song for her. Rachel will be against it, as I already sang to her, and, honestly, right now she is the one who has something to fix. Santana will give her the song and tell her to sing it to me as a surprise instead of the other way around. We'd meet up in the auditorium, I'd start to sing, she'd sing along, we'd both have what we wanted, and we'd make up."

He was as close to speechless as was possible for him. "That's…one of the stupidest ideas I've ever heard."

* * *

><p>Rachel felt a headache coming on. "I don't agree with that idea. Quinn and I are not on the same page right now. And I can't just bulldozer her. And your plan is not going to change the fact that Quinn and I need to have a serious talk. I love grand gestures, but a relationship, of whatever nature it might be, cannot survive alone on that."<p>

Santana rolled her eyes. "So what's _your_ plan?"

* * *

><p>"Then what do you suggest I do?", Quinn asked defeated.<p>

He didn't need to think about that. "Don't plan."

* * *

><p>"I don't have a plan", Rachel shrugged.<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt knew Quinn was confused and scared, but he needed to get through to her. He needed her to listen and understand. "This is not some kind of teenage drama movie", he began.<p>

* * *

><p>"…and you're not a producer or director who can manipulate people or situations to their own will", Rachel said, looking Santana straight in the eyes. "This is real life…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…where people need to talk to each other and decide things together. In real life, you can't just tell people half of the truth…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…and expect them to react accordingly. Or pull strings behind people's backs and assume everything's going to work out great. If you think that…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…then you're going to be sorely disappointed. You slushied her,…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…I tried to steal her boyfriend,…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…you ridiculed her…<p>

* * *

><p>"…I antagonized her…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…you abused her trust…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…she insulted me again and again and again…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…she ignored your feelings…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…and we both made countless mistakes."<p>

* * *

><p>"That's not just going to go away. Those issues are not going to be resolved by singing to each other."<p>

* * *

><p>"How do you know this plan is going to work? How do you know <em>an<em>y plan is going to work?"

* * *

><p>"You can't know what someone thinks or feels unless they've told you face to face. Friendship…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…and love cannot be planned. They just happen. And when they do…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…you need to be honest about them, and clear, and straightforward. Plans are great when you want to go on vacation or apply to colleges…"<p>

* * *

><p>"…or manage your money. But when you tell someone you like them? When you ask them for forgiveness? When you want to build a relationship? You need to lay it all out. Show all your cards and hope for the best."<p>

* * *

><p>"So don't plan this", Kurt finished.<p>

* * *

><p>"So I'm not going to plan this", Rachel finished.<p>

* * *

><p>A plan.<p>

It pays to plan ahead – it wasn't raining when Noah built the ark.

To be prepared is half the victory.

But all the scheming and plotting in the world won't result in something lasting, transcendent. Anything that's authentic, that's real, comes in the form of a gift. The gift of two people speaking honest words to one another, without the veil of a planned outcome.

* * *

><p>When the door to the band room opened, it showed a tired, blonde cheerleader and a fashionable young man on one side; a softly smiling short brunette and an expectant looking Latina on the other.<p>

"Rachel", the blonde breathed.

"Quinn", the brunette nodded.

And when they both opened their mouths again at the same time, the young man and the Latina had to suppress their smiles.

"I think we need to talk."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Anyone miss me?

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 7**

"I think we need to talk."

But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out, and Quinn seemed to have the same problem. The words were there, but there were just too many of them. So many things to say, so many things to ask, but no idea how to string two words or more together and form an actual sentence.

"I think we need to talk."

And they really did, but would it change things? If it did, would it change them for better or worse? She had decided to not plan this conversation, but now she was at a loss. It was the control freak in her that freaked out and the teenager that was scared. Where was the part of her that just _talked_?

"I think we need to talk."

The words just wouldn't come. It wasn't a matter of putting herself out there with words she was afraid to say, and it wasn't a matter of being diplomatic or honest or straight-forward. It was simply a matter of not knowing what to say.

"I think we need to talk."

But then, Quinn had found the words, hadn't she? With that song – that wonderful, amazing, emotional song – she'd put herself out there, in front of the whole Glee club, and she'd known exactly what to say. In that moment, Rachel had had the words; in that moment, there had been no doubt in the diva's mind about the conversation they'd have ten seconds later. Now, though?

"I think we need to talk."

Quinn had been crushed by her lack of reaction. She'd risked something and had it all been thrown back in her face by ten seconds of hurtful silence. Could she make this right? Could she find the needle in the haystack – the right thing to say out of all the words that swirled in her head?

"I think we need to talk."

Looking at Quinn's face, studying her nervous expression, she knew the other girl was looking for words as much as she was. She had disappointed the blonde and still, here she was, trying to fix things. Trying to talk to her. And with that, Rachel made a decision. She wasn't going to waste her time finding the perfect words. She was going to shoot straight from the heart. She was going to…

"Are you ever going to say anything? After all this build-up, this is really anticlimactic, you know?"

"Maybe they've skipped talking and already went on to much more enjoyable ways of communication. Maybe they can't talk because their mouths are otherwise occupied."

"Kurt! Santana! Don't you have somewhere to be?", Rachel shouted.

Quinn, for her part, just stood there grinning, and Rachel felt a weight lift off her chest. Maybe this wasn't going to be a total disaster.

"Those two are just…", she trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence with insulting anyone.

"Oh, yeah", Quinn nodded. "Totally." Then, turning her head towards the door once more, she raised her voice. "We're fine doing this on our own, thank you very much!"

They heard grumbling and something that sounded suspiciously like a foot being stamped on the ground, but then there was silence.

"We are?", Rachel looked at Quinn questioningly.

"What?"

"We're fine doing this on our own? Are you sure? Because our track record isn't exactly great", Rachel clarified.

At that, Quinn looked to the ground, her voice much smaller than it had been before. "So you didn't like my…-"

"I loved it", the brunette interrupted. "I'm sorry; let me correct my statement: _I_ don't have the best track record. My reaction was-"

"A little disappointing, but only because you did what Santana told you to", Quinn said quickly.

"So you were right", Rachel smiled.

"I was? I mean, what about?" There really was nothing more adorable than a flustered Quinn.

"We _are_ fine doing this on our own. It's them meddling that makes things complicated."

They were silent again for a while, but this time, it was much more comfortable.

"You said you loved my song", Quinn finally said.

"I did. It was…amazing. It was…I was…I wanted so badly to tell you…"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not", Rachel disagreed. "I'm incredibly sorry I left you hanging. You did something great for me and I never wanted you to feel like it wasn't appreciated. Because it was…is. Immensely so."

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

Did she really have to ask that?

"Do you really have to ask that?"

"Well, someone pointed out to me that you've apparently forgiven Santana without her ever apologizing."

"That should tell you something."

"It tells me you forgive too easily", Quinn shrugged. "But other than that, it doesn't really tell me much. It doesn't tell me where that leaves us. It doesn't tell me what you want to do about this now. It doesn't tell me how you feel about this…us."

"You care about that?", Rachel asked, truly wanting to know.

"I care about you", Quinn admitted.

Really, Rachel thought, why was I worried about what I'd say? She says all the right things.

"I care about you, too."

"Really?" It wasn't exactly disbelief that clouded Quinn's voice, but there was so much surprise in there that Rachel seriously wondered how the blonde had expected this all to go down.

"Yes", Rachel simply answered, her tone leaving no argument. "I'd have thought I'd have made that clear over time. Even if I didn't, I just forgave you. I may forgive too easily, but only when I care."

"So you care about Santana?", Quinn said, half joking, half curious.

Rachel had never before noticed how clearly she could hear Quinn's emotions in her voice. Maybe it was a recent development, or maybe she'd never paid enough attention. Or maybe Quinn was finally letting her see her true self. Whatever it was, she was going to make the most of it. "I care about everyone in Glee club", she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Dejected.

"About some more than others."

"Sure…" Evasive.

"You fall into the 'more' category."

"Oh?" Cautiously hopeful.

"No, that's not right."

"Oh." Dejected again.

"You have your own category."

"I…" Stunned. Unsure.

"I've forgiven you just like I forgave Santana. But it's a different situation – a different feeling. I want much more from you than that song-"

"I can apologize again if you-" Hurried.

"No."

"No?" Confused.

"No, that's not what I meant. I don't want you to apologize and have that be it. I want to apologize, too, because I'm partly at fault for our bad relationship. I want you to accept that apology and forgive me. And then I want us to make something of this – in whichever capacity you're comfortable with. I want us to have something that's more than being in the same club. Because I care about you more than that."

"You want all that?" Relieved.

"If you want it."

Rachel had never looked more shy, and Quinn had never been more elated, and it was then that they both noted how close they were standing to each other.

"I never thought…", Quinn started.

"Thought what?"

"That I'd be that lucky", the blonde whispered.

"Oh Quinn, I…", Rachel breathed, but she didn't get further than that.

"Hey girls, are you okay? The jazz club needs this room now, so I hope you've sorted whatever was going on during Glee. Next meeting is Monday, alright?", Will Schuester said, having suddenly come up behind them and shoving them out the door.

As far as he was concerned, the matter was closed.

As far as the two girls where concerned, he was a dead man.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I seem to be unable to write a chapter without Santana in it…

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 8**

The next week…

"So, they almost kissed?"

Santana nodded and lazily leaned back against the wall, inspecting the orange ping pong ball she'd found in one of the classrooms earlier. Whoever had forgotten it there would just have to get another one. Finders keepers and all that.

"Like, full on the lips?"

The Latina shrugged, tossing the ball back and forth between her hands. It was a nice ball. Shiny and brand new. The perfect size for…

"You don't know?"

A sigh. "I said _almost_, Brit. There's no _full-on_ involved if it's almost."

"But it wouldn't have been a kiss to the cheek, right? Or a friendly peck? It would have been a romantic kiss."

Santana shrugged again, tossing the ball higher up in the air before catching it and trying to balance it on her fingertips. This was way better than thinking about Quinn and Rachel. Toss, catch, toss, catch.

"Are you listening?" There was a pout on the blonde's face.

"Sure", the Latina said absently, throwing the ball almost up to the ceiling. She _always_ listened to Brittany, but…if she threw the ball _this_ high, would she have time for a little pirouette before catching it again?

"Would it have been like this?", Brittany asked, stopping her girlfriend from turning around and placing a sweet, long kiss upon the other girl's lips. The ball fell to the floor and rolled a few feet away.

"Probably", Santana agreed when the kiss ended. Picking up her new favorite toy, she checked it for any damages. "But Schuester interrupted and threw them out of the room. Then they just left in different directions and I haven't heard from Quinn all weekend, but from what I've seen today, they haven't talked about it."

Brittany frowned. "What _have_ you seen today? I didn't see them near each other once."

"Exactly", Santana sighed. Toss, catch, toss, catch.

"It's going to be okay", Brittany said softly, running her hands up and down the Latina's arms reassuringly. "Don't worry. Everything's going to work out. They'll be happy."

"I don't…" Santana shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "I don't care. They can do whatever they want. What's it to me of they get together? The only happiness I care about is yours. Well, and mine. But that's one and the same."

"You don't mean that", the blonde disagreed with a pointed look to the ball that clearly served as some kind of outlet. "You care. You don't want to show it, but you do. You're uncomfortable because you think you might have complicated things for them. They're your friends."

"They are not", Santana insisted stubbornly.

"How do you know what happened when they were talking in that room?"

"I was there, Brit", she answered. How else would she know? Quinn sure as hell didn't tell her – the girl kept too much inside, that much was for sure.

"I thought they had asked you and Kurt to leave after you gave them their pep talks?"

"Yeah, and Kurt did leave, probably for some quality time with the boyfriend, but I stayed to make sure…", she trailed off, noticing Brittany's smirk. Or, at least, what would have been a smirk if Brittany was capable of anything else than a sweet smile.

"You stayed to make sure…what?", she asked.

"That everything was going well", Santana admitted.

"You do care", Brittany grinned.

"Okay, so I might care. What do you expect me to do with that?" Toss, catch, toss higher, catch.

"I expect you to go in there and talk to Rachel", the blonde replied, gesturing to the restroom they had seen the small diva disappear into.

"What? No! Why can't I talk to Quinn?"

"I guess you could-"

"Hey guys, have you seen Rachel?"

"Jesus, Q, don't sneak up on people like that", Santana exclaimed, quickly catching her ball mid-air.

The blonde regarded her with an odd look. "We're in the middle of a hallway. Not my fault you only have eyes for Brit and…is that a ping pong ball? You always were easily entertained, but…"

Taking a step forward, the Latina narrowed her eyes and held the ball up to her friend's face. "Let's see how good you are at talking if I put this-"

"Rachel is in there", Brittany interrupted, putting herself between the two girls.

"Thanks", Quinn smiled, already walking off in the direction Brittany had pointed her to.

The bubbly blonde turned to her girlfriend, raising her eyebrows, and Santana immediately went soft. "Sorry", she mumbled.

"It's okay. I know you get defensive. Especially when someone catches you in an emotional mood. You unnecessarily over-compensate, but I know you're working on it", Brittany said matter-of-factly.

"How do you…I…what have…?", Santana spluttered.

"I'm perceptive. What I lack in IQ I make up for in EQ. Kinda like you, only the other way around. It's part of why you love me. So, wanna go make out?"

"Yeah", the Latina said, a little stunned. "Yes to all of that."

In the restroom, Quinn found Rachel staring into the mirror.

"Hi", she said, startling the brunette. "Admiring your reflection?", she asked, inwardly slapping herself for such a weak conversational intro. Rachel would surely take it as an insult – in the past, it had always been. Now, it was just her trying to start a conversation. She had thought about Rachel all weekend long; about what had been said between them when they'd last seen each other, how Schuester had interrupted them, and about how she didn't know exactly what he'd interrupted. Was it wishful thinking or had they really been about to kiss? Quinn didn't dare hope it. For two days now, she'd been nervous, battling with herself. Should she call Rachel? Should she talk to Santana about the whole thing? Would she be able to survive until Monday to get some clarity? In the end, she'd decided to wait, but now Monday had come and she'd spent almost the whole school day not resolving anything. Rachel hadn't come to try and talk to her, and that scared her.

"Rachel?", she said, when the girl still hadn't answered her. "Do you…do you not want to talk to me?"

The diva had her back to her, but she saw her face clearly in the mirror – how her eyes closed and her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Then, a shake of the head, and a whispered "Not right now."

"Do you want me to go?", Quinn asked, fearing the other girl would really send her away. Something was wrong, and Quinn prayed she wasn't the cause for Rachel looking so sad and so lost.

Again Rachel didn't answer for a while, but something about her stance and the look on her face was strange. Quinn tried to figure out when she had last seen Rachel look like that, and then it hit her. "Are you counting to ten?", she asked incredulously. Really? After all the trouble it had brought them the last time?

"I've come to realize it really does help me clear my mind", Rachel said, and her voice was so…off…that Quinn could only nod. She decided to use the time to really look at the girl. The first thing that caught her attention was the clothes, or rather, how they looked on her. Rachel's beauty was sometimes hidden by how she dressed, but it was never completely gone, no matter the hideous owl sweaters. And she definitely looked the hottest when she didn't try, just like now. She actually wore jeans, something she seldom did, and a tight blue shirt that fitted her. Really fitted her. She didn't remember ever seeing this shirt on her, and she definitely would if she'd ever worn it before. It clung to her in all the right places, and Quinn couldn't stop herself from imagining taking it off. She had a hard time not fantasizing about Rachel after she'd finally allowed herself to think of her that way, but now, with this shirt, it was almost unmanageable. It was a good shirt. A shirt she had never seen before. Wait, what? How was that possible? Sure, she hadn't talked to Rachel all day, but that didn't mean she hadn't seen her – and this was most definitely not what she had worn two hours ago. Now that she thought about it, hadn't Rachel been wearing a skirt earlier? Why had she changed into different clothes during school?

The moment it dawned on her, she was next to Rachel, clenching her fists, willing the other girl to turn and look at her. "Someone slushied you."

It wasn't a question, but when Rachel nodded she still found herself wishing she hadn't been right. "Who was it?", she demanded to know.

"It doesn't matter, Quinn. You know it happens all the time", Rachel said.

"It does matter!", the blonde shouted. "Because I thought it had stopped and because you've never looked so sad before!"

"You're right, it had stopped. I haven't been partial to a slushy treatment in quite a while. And maybe that's exactly the reason it hit me a little harder this time. I'll be back to my old self in no time, Quinn. Just let me gather myself, and I'll be fine."

"This is not acceptable", Quinn grumbled, looking like she might kill someone soon. "I won't let that continue to happen to you. You're off limits."

"You think you can just tell them to stop and they'll do it? You think you have that power?", Rachel challenged.

"Of course I have. I always told them who to go for and who to leave alone; and I might not be as far up the social ladder as I was anymore, but I can still do that."

Rachel said nothing to that, instead regarding the blonde with a raised eyebrow and wide eyes. What's that look for?, Quinn wondered. And then she realized what she had just said. _Oh my god…_

"Rachel, I'm…I didn't mean…you have to understand…I was…" No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't form a coherent sentence. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't talk herself out of this. No matter how hard she tried, she was never going to get Rachel to feel what she felt for her. She felt like crying. She felt like she was going to suffocate any minute now.

"Easy, Quinn. Deep breaths. Come on, in and out", Rachel mumbled, gathering Quinn in her arms and trying to calm her down. "You're okay, we're okay. Just _breathe_, Quinn."

"Please forgive me", the blonde implored.

"I already have", Rachel reminded her. "You need to calm down. I'm not angry at you. I promise, we're fine."

"But you can't just forgive me", Quinn protested.

"Why not?", Rachel asked. "It's what you want from me."

"Because I don't deserve it", Quinn cried. "And I want you to forgive me because you mean it, not because it's what I want from you."

"But it's what I want, too", the brunette explained. "I want to forgive you because I want us to move on. And I do forgive you because you do deserve it, Quinn. You need to let yourself believe that. I believe that. I believe in _you_."

And just like that, the crying stopped. "You do?"

"I told you", Rachel smiled. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, but you're also much, much more than that."

"You said pretty, not beautiful", Quinn corrected softly. "And there was only one _much_ in that sentence, not two."

"Then I guess you've managed to raise my opinion of you even more since we've had that conversation."

Quinn smiled, unbelievably happy to have this girl in her live.

"Are you okay now?", Rachel asked, concern tinting her voice.

"Perfect", Quinn breathed.

"Let's get out of here. I do believe we've stayed her long enough for our next class to be over. Our friends will all be running around somewhere out there in the hallways. Want to go look for Brittany and Santana?"

"You voluntarily want to spend time with Santana?", Quinn couldn't help asking.

"We've come to an understanding", the other girl shrugged.

"I see", Quinn grinned.

"Are you coming?", Rachel asked when Quinn didn't move.

"I have to do something first", the blonde answered.

"Okay…?", Rachel said, surprised when Quinn suddenly rushed for the door with a positively scary look on her face.

"There are some jocks I need to have a word with." And with that, she was out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** I know exactly where I want this to go…I'm just not sure how to get there anymore…can you guys help me out a little bit? I'd be really grateful if you could give me an idea on what you all would like to happen…pretty please?

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 9**

Still Monday…

How do you describe the way someone advances on you, getting ready to slap you in the face? Dangerous. How do you describe the pain that slap makes you feel? Stinging. Burning. How do you describe the sound that slap makes? She wouldn't know.

She didn't hear anything. Not Quinn screaming in rage. Not Santana cursing in Spanish. Not the dozens of students in uproar, some of them cheering, most of them outraged and disgusted. She couldn't hear one damn thing except the blood rushing in her ears. And because she couldn't hear, and her vision was clouded by _something_ – not tears, never tears – she wasn't exactly sure what was happening. Hell, she wasn't even sure what _had_ happened.

She remembered Quinn promising a stop the slushy facials and storming out, apparently in search of some pitiful jocks. She remembered going after her, only catching her when she was already in the midst of a dressing down, Santana at her side. She remembered students gathering, anticipating a show. Then one of the jocks noticed her, Grant whatever, and obviously made the connection before Quinn even mentioned the name Rachel Berry. She remembered him looking like he wanted to hit Quinn for embarrassing him and his friends in front of half of the student body. She remembered stepping closer to stop him. And then she remembered nothing, except that he apparently changed his mind about his intended target.

"Rachel", someone shouted, or maybe it was a lot of people shouting her name, but she couldn't be sure, because it was still mostly blood rushing through her that she heard. Her vision, however, slowly cleared, and she could make out Brittany and Kurt in front of her, holding her. Other people were at her side, too, mostly Glee kids, though some of them – including Quinn and Santana – were busy throwing themselves at Grant whatever. Rachel had never been one for violence, but she hoped they got in a few good hits. The rest of the students – no teachers in sight, _of course_ – either stood at the sidelines or helped keeping Grant down. Why, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like he could get away with Noah and Mike sitting on him. They didn't seem to care that they received some of the more badly placed hits. Take one for the team, Finn would say. Grant's team seemed to follow the same rule; they let him take the beating and just watched the whole thing.

And then Quinn seemed to finally forget about her rage and remember about Rachel. She let go of her punching bag and rushed to Rachel's side, cradling her, taking the one hand that wasn't busy gripping onto Kurt's shirt for dear life. Santana delivered one final blow and then came to stand with her fellow clubbers. Slowly, the guys one by one followed and Grant was finally able to stand up, hurryingly grabbing his stuff and shoving his way through the crowd. He was fleeing, and it gave Rachel an odd form of satisfaction. The bell sounded, signaling the break was over, and while some students kept lingering around unsurely, most of them went along their way to their classrooms. Minutes later, it was only the Glee club that was still standing in the hallways.

Someone suggested retreating to the band room, and someone gave her a gentle push in the right direction when she seemed confused about where to go. She was sat in a stool, brought something to drink and asked repeatedly if she was okay. Someone closed the door. Someone wrapped a blanket around her. And then, _everyone_ was silent.

She didn't care about any of that. She only cared that during all this, Quinn had never once let go of her hand.

"Rachel?", Tina asked, surprisingly the first to break the heavy silence.

The girl in question didn't answer.

"She's not crying", Mercedes said into the room, her voice thick, as if that was exactly what she wanted to do.

"Rachel, honey", Kurt tried.

"What?", she asked tiredly. Quinn's hand held hers tightly and she just wanted to savior this feeling and fall asleep with it, right then and there.

"Grant, he…", Finn started, but didn't finish his sentence. Rachel wondered if he was for once being tactful.

"He slapped you", Noah provided. A few pairs of eyes shot to him, and he immediately looked down timidly. "Sorry", he muttered.

"Are you okay?", Brittany asked, for about the hundredth time.

"I'm fine", Rachel answered, her grip on Quinn's hand never loosening.

"We should give her some space", the blonde suggested, though it came out as more of an order. It was the first thing she had said after beating Grant to a pulp (well, not really a pulp, but a girl could dream, right?), and it wasn't because she didn't have anything to say. She just didn't think most of the stuff that went through her head would be helpful. Mostly because it would be illegal.

"Q, the prick needs to pay!", Santana exclaimed. Evidently, this was what the boys had waited for - someone to declare war. Immediately, they all voiced their agreement, comparing plans and methods, excitement and urgency making their voices come together to an unbearable noise. Rachel suddenly felt dizzy.

"Rachel?", she heard Quinn's voice.

"I think she's in shock", Mercedes stated.

"I'm fine", the brunette insisted.

"You're not fine!", Finn shouted. "That asshole slapped you!"

"Finn!", a chorus of angry voices shouted back.

Rachel closed her eyes, willing herself not to lose her mind. She was somewhere between falling asleep, so unbelievably tired from everything that happened that day, and bursting with a kind of energy that was mostly made of adrenaline. Quinn's thumb ran circles on the back of her hand and she couldn't decide if that added to her tiredness or her resolve to hold out until she was in the safety of her bed. In any case, it angered her that her friends seemed to have no problem addressing the incident, while at the same time refusing to call it what it was. "He did", she agreed, in a voice that gave no emotion away. "And you beat him up for it. I think he paid enough."

"What?" This time, the chorus was directed at her.

"He slapped you!", Santana yelled.

"I realize that."

"He _slapped_ you", Kurt emphasized.

"I was there for it, thank you", Rachel replied calmly. The hand that held hers started to shake.

"No, no, he sl-"

What was it with these people? First they didn't want to say it all, and now they couldn't seem to stop saying it!

"If you repeat it one more time, I'm going to throw up."

That worked. The silence was back, and the hand in hers was still.

"You're way too calm about this", Kurt pointed out.

"I'm composed", she countered.

"You're not crying", Mercedes said again.

"So?" The shaking started again, and she briefly wondered if it came from her or from Quinn.

"You're not angry", Tina noted, her tone carrying disbelief.

"You're not running around demanding revenge." That came from Noah.

"You're not holding a speech about human rights." Finn.

"Yes. So?" The second the indifferent words left her mouth, Quinn's warmth left her, too. She'd pulled her hand away and Rachel could see that it was now her whole body that was shaking. But shaking from what? Pent up anger? Anger directed at Grant or at her?

"So, shouldn't you be doing at least one of those things?", Quinn asked, her voice dangerously low. It was true that she might not have anything helpful to add, her mind much too preoccupied with cooking up ways to make sure Rachel would be perfectly safe from now on and with the way it felt to hold her hand, but this was beyond ridiculous. Rachel was not behaving like Rachel at all.

"Why should I?", the diva asked, taking Quinn's hand back in hers, needing that comfort. Quinn didn't refuse, and that made her feel better than it maybe should have.

Santana looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Because he-"

There was the shaking again.

"I swear to god, if one more person tells me that Grant slapped me when I'm clearly aware of that fact, my song choice from now on will solely consist of Barbra Streisand."

Silence again. She'd never thought she'd get her way if she threatened them with vomiting and a woman who'd won just about every important award.

"You can't be satisfied with a little beating. We need to really make him pay", Noah reasoned.

"Enough is enough", Rachel maintained, moving to stand up. Her grip on Quinn's hand (or was it Quinn's grip on hers?) was so strong, she feared bones might break.

"Sit down", Santana barked. Noticing Brittany's disapproving look, she amended, "I mean, wouldn't it be better to stay seated?"

"I'm fine", Rachel repeated her mantra, leaning back in her chair.

"Stop saying that", Santana ordered. Then, realizing her tone, she added "I mean, could you please stop-"

"It's okay, San", Brittany interrupted. "She really does need to stop saying that."

"It's true", Rachel shot back, trying to stand up again. "I _am_ fine."

"Sit the hell down!", Santana shouted, ignoring Brittany's kick to her shin for not behaving and putting her hands on Rachel's shoulders, effectively pushing her back into the chair. "Why are you not listening? God, can't you just do what you're told? You're like a child!"

Up to that point, Quinn had done an exceptional job on not letting her feelings get the best of her, but Rachel was being unreasonable and Santana was lashing out and everyone else was radiating tension and her hand was hurting almost as much as her head now and soon, she was going to say or do something stupid. She was sure of it. She needed something to hold on to. She needed something that explained Rachel's stubbornness. She needed a hint on what exactly went on in that complex mind of hers.

"What do you want to do?", Rachel asked. "Slap some sense into me?"

That did the trick. From that comment, Quinn knew exactly what was going on.

"How can you say that?", the Latina asked shocked.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I didn't mean to imply you'd actually physically hurt me." The obvious remorse in her apology didn't do anything to diffuse the tension in the room.

"No, I mean, how can you joke about this?"

"Easy", Rachel replied. "I'm over it."

"That was fast", Tina muttered.

"Rachel…", Mercedes sighed.

"Okay, so maybe I'm not completely over it. But I'm fine. It's okay. We can all go back to our lives."

"You may be ready to leave this all behind you, but we're not. Grant is an asshole", Noah stressed.

"He's misguided." Clearly, Rachel was intent on downplaying the whole thing.

"He's a bully."

"He made a bad decision in the heat of the moment."

"Honey, why are you defending him?", Kurt asked.

"Because except for this, he's always been an okay guy. I know some of you are friends with him. So he lost it, big deal. I'm sure he's sorry. He isn't worse than the rest of the people here. He's not worse than us", she stated.

"Not worse than us?", Finn questioned, a little insulted. "Where do you get that from?"

Quinn steeled herself for what she knew was going to come. She had figured it out already; hadn't the other's? Did no one see this coming? Did no one notice the glint in Rachel's eyes as she stood up, getting ready for what she was about to dish out?

"Because you", Rachel said, pointing at Santana, "have told me several times that you want to slap me whenever I open my mouth. You belittled me and made fun of me. You told me to move to Israel when I asked for advice on a personal matter."

"You", she went on, turning to Mercedes, "have made what could have been a friendly competition into a battle for friendship. And if I recall correctly, you once planned to lock me in a basement."

"You said I was annoying and obnoxious, only staying in a relationship with me because I have great boobs", she said, looking at Finn.

"You made me dress up as a clown hooker because you wanted to humiliate me", she addressed Kurt.

One by one, she went through them, recalling things they had said or done to her, until only Quinn was left.

"And you", she said, taking a deep breath, "actually slapped me." Quinn flinched, but didn't let go of Rachel's hand. "And no one made such a fuss about it then."

"Then there's me", the brunette continued. "I'm absolutely sure I've done or said something hurtful to every single one of you in the past. We're all guilty of that. We've all hurt each other before, even though we're good people. I'm not condoning Grant's behavior. I'm not making apologies for him. I'm just saying that a lot of things can hurt you, and I, personally, have often felt like someone slapped me in the face. There doesn't need to be actual slapping involved to make you feel that kind of pain."

"Rachel…" And just like before, she didn't know if it was one person or all of them saying her name.

"Don't you get it?", she asked. "It _hurts_. And right now, I'd really like for him to burn in hell. But I just can't get my head around…I don't know if…we've all forgiven each other, right? We're friends. And I need to find it in me to forgive Grant, too. Because if I can't do that…"

Suddenly, her legs were too weak to hold her up. She didn't fight the tiredness anymore. She didn't fight the tears anymore. She didn't fight anything anymore.

"Are you done?", Quinn asked softly.

Even nodding was almost too strenuous, but somehow, she pulled it off. Sitting down in her chair again, she was surrounded by her friends, wrapped up in their arms, comforted by the knowledge that she hadn't alienated or scared them away.

"I'm here. You can close your eyes. I'm here", Quinn promised. "Everything's going to be okay."

And Rachel believed her.

Later, she would be informed that Grant was suspended. She would be told that when he returned to school, he'd receive a punishment carefully thought out by Coach Beiste and Coach Sylvester. Later, she'd pretend to ignore her fellow Glee clubbers making plans for Grant that involved paint, ropes, glue and – for whatever reason – backing powder. Later, she would find it in herself to apologize for going crazy on them.

But right then, the only thing that mattered was Quinn's hand still firmly in her own, Quinn's soothing voice in her ear, and Quinn promising to not leave her side.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews and alerts. I was really motivated. This is probably the longest chapter so far.

When I wrote this, I was listening to Ai Se Eu Te Pego by Michel Teló on repeat. It's a great song – I loved it even before I translated it's lyrics into a language I can actually understand

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 10**

Monday still…

Of course, hoping that her dads wouldn't find out about the incident had been a little too optimistic. The school had called and informed them, though, clearly, details had been conveniently left out. She wasn't sure how the principal had come to know about the day's events, anyway. As far as she knew, no teacher had been present for what had happened. It was a miracle in itself and spoke of carelessness and negligence, but it was true. How the principle had explained the absence of any and all authority figures during the happenings, Rachel didn't know. Then again, that might be why his recount had been sketchy at best.

Her best guess was that her friends had spilled the beans to Mr. Schue or maybe Coach Sylvester had found out through her spies. At any rate, her dads had been informed about her unfortunate "injury" and Grant's subsequent suspension before she'd even made it home from school. Naturally, they'd bombarded her with questions as soon as she set foot into the house. _That_ had been fun. Especially because Quinn had been right behind her, eyes to the ground and mouth set in a firm line, stopping dead in her tracks at sound of the two Berry men falling over themselves to make sure their daughter was fine.

Standing in the doorway, Rachel couldn't help but roll her eyes at the scene. Her dads were still talking, alternating between concerned questions and indignant comments about the phone-call they had received; giving her enough pointers on what exactly they knew to think up a satisfying explanation for when they finally stopped crowding her.

Quinn was still standing behind her and still not talking. In fact, she had not spoken a single word since the impromptu Glee meeting except for "let's get you home" and "are you cold?". Rachel had decided to simply follow her lead. She'd been escorted out of school, sat down in Quinn's car and driven home. Parking in front of her house, Quinn had been quick to open the car door for her and then nodded in the general direction of Rachel's home. Rachel had simply grabbed her stuff and headed for the door, Quinn following closely behind.

It wasn't like Rachel didn't appreciate the silent, almost stoic comfort the blonde offered, and she knew that Quinn had always been more pensive than talkative, but this was bordering on ridiculous. Quinn would have to talk soon, Rachel knew. Her dads would soon calm down enough to realize her presence and she'd have to at least offer a greeting.

As if on cue, her daddy stopped himself in the middle of his sentence and eyed Quinn. "Who's that?"

When Quinn didn't show any signs of introducing herself – or doing _anything_ really, other than just _standing_ there, Rachel sighed. "Quinn", she answered. "From Glee."

"Hi", Quinn said, but whatever else she might've added was stuck in her throat when Rachel's dads just shrugged confused. There was no spark of recognition at the introduction. No welcoming smile or disapproving frown. No sign whatsoever that Rachel had ever spoken of her to her dads. Quinn didn't know what to make of this. She supposed she should be relieved – while Rachel apparently hadn't told them about her new good friend, she had evidently never confessed about the bitch she'd been, either.

"Rachel, we should talk-", the bigger of the two men – Leroy or Hiram? – started, but Rachel waved him off.

"I made the mistake of getting involved in a fight that had absolutely nothing to do with me. I should've just stayed out of it. It was an accident. Wrong place, wrong time. I don't even know what they were fighting about – probably something childish. You know those jocks. My face was simply collateral damage."

Quinn wanted to object, but was shocked back into silence when Hiram and Leroy simply nodded, accepting the explanation. "The school told us Grant would be dealt with. We frown upon using violence, and we're not happy with what happened, but we understand things sometimes spiral out of control. Just try to stay away from fights that don't concern you, okay? We worry."

That was it? Quinn didn't want to believe it.

"Thank you for bringing her home, Quinn", one of the Mr. Berrys said. Quinn took it for the dismissal it was. But really…that was it?

"She's staying for dinner", Rachel declared, not bothering to stay around for anything her dads or Quinn might have to say on that matter. She was already halfway up the stairs to her room before the invitation even registered with Quinn.

"Of course", dad number one said.

"We eat at six", dad number two added.

"Are you coming?", Rachel asked from the top of the stairs.

Quite obviously, that was it.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?", Quinn demanded, as soon as the door to Rachel's room closed behind them.

"You don't have to stay if you-"

"I'm not talking about that. I _want_ to stay. I don't think I'm ready to leave you alone just yet." It was a little more honesty than she was usually comfortable with, but the smile on the diva's face more than made up for it. "I was talking about your dads. They don't know me, do they?"

Rachel looked down, not liking the feeling of doing something that hurt the blonde. "I'm sorry, Quinn, if you feel unimportant to me because I've never told my dads about you, but it's-"

"It's not that either", Quinn interrupted. "I know I'm not unimportant to you. I just don't get how they can be so completely clueless about what's been going on at school."

"They're not clueless", Rachel disagreed.

"They are", Quinn said. She saw it clearly now: Rachel had never told them how bad things at school were for her. She had never told them about the bullying and the slushies and all the other stuff people did to her. Because of that, her dads had bought into the "wrong place, wrong time" explanation for the red mark that was still visible on their daughter's face. Why else wouldn't they ask for more details? It was either that, or... "They're either clueless or they don't care. Which one is it?"

"I'm going to have to go with clueless, then", Rachel sighed. "They're good parents, Quinn. Loving and protective. Sometimes overly so. But they're also busy. They've never been to any of our competitions, haven't you noticed?"

"You feel neglected", Quinn surmised.

"No", Rachel shook her head. "They're there for me. They just didn't have too many opportunities to see me interact with my peers. There's a difference. It's what always made it so easy to make them believe everything was going well. I have a loving, trusting, close relationship with my parents, Quinn. I know they sometimes feel bad for not being able to be as involved in my life as they'd like to be. And I don't complain about it, because I want to protect them."

"So you lie to them", the blonde stated, surprised she had never thought about that before. Thinking back, it was more than strange that Rachel's dads had never been to the school to talk about the bullying of their daughter.

"I may be guilty of omission, but I don't lie to them. I don't need to. As I said, they rarely ever see me interact with anyone from school. And it's not like I come home crying every day because someone called me names or threw an ice cold beverage in my face. I _am_ able to handle the ridicule, you know? "

Quinn did know that. Rachel was strong, stronger than most people gave her credit for. What Quinn hadn't known, however, was that Rachel didn't even have her parents to back her up. Surely they would've helped her if she'd just told them? Didn't they see the difficulties their daughter was going through? "You lied to them about what happened today."

Rachel heaved another sigh and sat down on her bed, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it's the first time things got _that_ out of hand."

Sitting down next to the object of her affections, Quinn tried a different route. "I just don't think it's right that they just let you drop the subject that quickly. I would've thought they'd be busy suing the school by now."

"Oh, I'm sure they're thinking about that", Rachel smiled. "They're probably calling around for bodyguards for me right now."

"Didn't look that way", Quinn frowned, thinking that was actually a great idea and mentally putting together the message she would send Santana later.

Rachel laid down on her bed, her feet dangling over the edge. "That's because me coming home like that took them by surprise."

"With a red handprint on your face?", Quinn asked, studying the diva's face closely for any other injuries or a worsening of the one that already existed.

A small snort escaped the brunette. "With you", she corrected.

Oh. "Oh."

"You said yourself that they've never heard of you before. Well, not _never_. I'm positive I mentioned you in some stories about Glee. They just didn't expect you to be the one to bring me home. Kurt, yes. Finn, maybe. Mercedes, possibly, but they know that we go from friends to enemies fairly quickly; enemies back to friends usually takes a bit longer. But you? Even I wouldn't have expected that, so dad and daddy were pretty much at a loss."

"You didn't expect me to be here for you?" For some reason, the thought made her stomach churn.

Lifting herself up on her elbows, Rachel looked Quinn straight in the eyes. "Not before, no. Now though, it seems like the most natural thing."

"Why is that?" It was nothing more than a whisper, but in Rachel's soundproofed and otherwise silent room, it sounded so much louder.

"You tell me", the diva challenged.

"I…" How could she answer that without giving too much away?

"It didn't escape my attention that you've held back. Not while you were beating Grant, because that was…impressive…but after that. I don't want you to have to hold back with me."

"Yes, well, I didn't think an outburst would help."

"I guess I was doing enough of that for everyone."

The self-deprecating tone didn't escape Quinn's notice. "I would've done a lot more", she confessed. "I was so unbelievably angry. I know from experience that I tend to do and say stupid things when I'm that angry, so I…"

"Held back", Rachel finished.

"Yeah. And I can't just hold parts of me back, so I just closed off completely." She wasn't proud of it, but it had probably been for the best. And Rachel didn't judge her for it, right?

"What exactly made you so angry?", the brunette asked softly.

Quinn raised both eyebrows at the question. "How about the fact that stupid fucker sl-"

"Let's not have that conversation again", Rachel cut her off, letting herself fall back on the bed again and covering her face with her hands.

"Sorry", Quinn apologized. She shifted on the bed to be able to lie down, too, and still face the other girl. Rachel let her hands fall to her sides and turned to Quinn.

"It's okay. Please don't take this the wrong way, but…I'm not the only one you've hurt in the past. Maybe not even the one you've hurt most. As I said earlier, we've all done our fair share of hurting each other. You've asked my forgiveness, and I see you're trying to prove yourself to me. I also see that you've been trying to make amends with other Glee kids for a while now. But you haven't sung any of them a song. And, dare I say, you haven't been that open with any of them, either."

Quinn suspected she knew where this was going. "You want to know why you're special."

"I'm not-"

"You are. I care about you more. I guess you have your own category", Quinn admitted, using the same words Rachel had the week before.

"You hated me", Rachel pointed out.

"Maybe. Or maybe I was confusing what I really feel for you with hate. You know, the fine line?" This honesty thing would really get her into trouble.

Rachel laughed. "I think that saying only applies when you talk about love, Quinn."

There. Trouble.

"Quinn?"

Rachel was still laughing, but it sounded unsure.

"Quinn?"

The blonde still didn't reply, instead burying her face in the covers of the bed. Rachel stopped laughing. "You cannot be serious."

Quinn didn't lift her head and didn't answer.

"You're joking, right?"

Quinn decided that if she was already in trouble because she couldn't keep her mouth shut, she was going to make the most of it. "Yeah, because me having more than friendly feelings towards you is so laughable, right?"

_Yes_, Rachel wanted to say. They were talking about Quinn Fabray, after all. But when she thought about it…they were talking about _Quinn Fabray_. It would be so typical if Quinn really felt something for her and mistook it for intense dislike all these years. "No, I guess not", she finally answered. "But I wouldn't call it love, either."

Feeling the need to save at least some of her dignity, Quinn defended herself. "I never said it was."

"You were implying it. And I'm telling you right now that I don't doubt your feelings. I just doubt you know exactly what they are."

_That_ made her abandon the covers and look up. "I think I know when I'm crushing on someone, Rachel."

"But you didn't. Not until recently, anyway. You can correct me if I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong", Quinn acknowledged reluctantly.

"And you used the word crush. Crushing on someone is not loving them, do we agree?"

"We agree", Quinn forced out.

"You care about me, and I care about you. And last week, before Mr. Schue interrupted us-"

"We almost kissed", Quinn blurted out, thinking that if she just put it bluntly enough, Rachel would stop being so damn rational about her feelings.

"That's what I thought", Rachel nodded. "I wasn't sure if I had just imagined it. But this is new for us. Even friendship is new for us, let alone anything more. And a lot has happened. We have many emotions to sort through from the last week and today. We should concentrate on that for now. We're both not going anywhere, right?"

"How can you be so rational about this? Usually, when someone tells you they like you, you're all…"

"Excited? Passionate? Enthusiastic?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you don't, you know, like the person back."

"It takes two to almost kiss, Quinn", Rachel stated. They both knew it didn't. It could've just as well been an almost kiss because one of them didn't want the kiss to actually happen. But the way Rachel had made her statement gave Quinn hope.

"You said that I don't know what exactly my feelings for you are, and I think you have the same problem. But we do know there's _something _that we're both feeling. And now you want to be all calm and collected and passive and not do anything about it?"

"What do you want me to do?", Rachel asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Just…with Finn and Jessie and-"

"Are you worried because I haven't immediately flung myself at you or made matching calendars or combed through my extensive musical collection to find a song for us to sing?"

Quinn shrugged. That was exactly what she was worried about. "To be perfectly honest, I haven't let myself think about that before. But now…you said you cared about me, you implied you liked me and you admitted we almost kissed, so…I guess I'm afraid I was a little too hopeful and we're not actually on the same page."

"You're adorable", Rachel smiled.

At that, Quinn looked almost insulted.

"Really, you are", Rachel insisted. "I think it's too cute for words that you want me to annoy you with stuff like that just because it's how I usually operate when I like someone. You really don't need to worry, though. You don't need to endure this. We _are_ on the same page. I'm just not doing stuff like this because I've learned from past mistakes and I don't want to lose you."

"What do you mean, annoy? And endure?"

"I've been told multiple times that the way I throw myself into a relationship is-"

"Annoying?" She was going to have to hurt a few more people when she back at school, it seemed.

"That was one of the adjectives used, yes."

"Rachel, I wouldn't be enduring anything. That stuff is just you, and you don't annoy me."

Two raised eyebrows were to only reply she got.

"Well, yes, okay, sometimes you do. But I don't want you to change. I like you just fine exactly the way you are."

Rachel's breath hitched. "That's…no one has ever said anything like that to me before."

"It's true. You want to be rational about this? If it makes you feel better, I'm all for rational. But we can also be emotional, Rach. I don't want you to hold back, either."

"How about we do a little bit of both?"

Intrigued, Quinn signaled her to go on.

"Well, we'll take one step after the other. Like level-headed people who do things rationally. But each of those steps will be completely from the heart. Like emotional people who listen to their feelings."

"I like that", Quinn smiled. Leave it to Rachel to be rational about emotions and emotional about rationality.

"I like _you_", the brunette emphasized.

Quinn's smile grew. "So…would it be okay for me to make the next step?"

"You may", Rachel allowed.

"I more than just like you", she declared, and then she pulled the smaller girl in for a hug. It was an awkward hug, seeing as they were both still lying on the bed, but for Quinn, it was the best hug ever. Definitely up there on the list of things she needed to repeat as often as humanly possible.

"I more than just like you, too", Rachel sighed happily. "Dinner will be ready, soon. Do you…do you maybe want to stay over? We can watch a movie."

"Stay over?", Quinn gulped.

"We have a guest room."

"Oh…yeah…sure. I mean, I'd love to." Who could have known that this disastrous day was going to end in a kind of happiness she hadn't felt for ages?

"Great! I'm going to talk to my dads real quick.", Rachel announced, getting up from the bed. Before she was out the door, she paused. "Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, in school…do you think things will be strange? Not between us, but, you know, with what happened today?"

"I won't let you out of my sight", Quinn promised.

"I didn't mean to make it sound like I was afraid. I don't need a bodyguard. Something I should probably also tell my dads", Rachel mused. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'm not taking any chances", Quinn said into the empty room. Taking out her phone, she texted Santana. If anyone wanted to mess with Rachel again, they wouldn't know what hit them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** this really is my longest chapter ever…mostly because Rachel holds lots of speeches in this one…

**Count To Ten**

**Chapter 11**

Quinn had never before been so glad to be part of a friendship that was called _The Unholy Trinity_ by the majority of McKinley's students before. It was an ominous, daunting title with a negative connotation. It inspired fear. It kept people at an arm's length. It was exactly what she needed. Because people may dare to insult her when she was just Quinn; people may talk down to Brittany when she was on her own; some may even try to get fresh with Santana when she found herself without the company of the two blondes. But no one was dumb enough to try their luck with the joined force of The Unholy Trinity. And everyone knew that extended to their friends. Surprising as it may be to everyone else, that now included Rachel Berry.

Rachel, of course, hadn't wanted to hear any of it. The day before, they'd had dinner with her dads before retreating up to her room and watching a movie. Quinn had still wanted answers that Rachel hadn't seemed inclined to give, making it perfectly clear that the topics of slaps, forgiveness and parental inattentiveness weren't up for discussion any longer. Thinking it was maybe fear that made Rachel close off, Quinn had tried to reassure Rachel by declaring her protected by the powerful union she and Brittana formed. That had prompted a lecture on independence and fighting one's own battles from the energetic brunette and a slap on the arm when she thought Quinn wasn't listening. But Quinn had been listening – she just didn't know what to make of all the things she learned about Rachel recently. _You have an opinion on everything, yet you tell me only half of it_, she had said then. Rachel had opened and closed her mouth a few times before hugging Quinn close and snuggling into her in lieu of an answer. Talking was over-rated, anyway. Some might call what Rachel did giving mixed signals, but Quinn understood it for what it was: it was one step from heart after the other, and Rachel took the steps that revolved around confessions slowly.

Quinn was fine with that, really. She didn't need Rachel to make it easy on her. But her mind was still reeling from the past day's events, and she knew that Rachel was affected, too. She may have explained her behavior and her reactions, she may have opened herself up to Quinn on many levels, but there was still a lot that went unsaid. What was it that Rachel had said about forgiving Grant? _I need to find it in myself to forgive him, because if I can't do that…_

If she couldn't do it, then what? The brunette was one of the most kind-hearted people she had ever met, despite her sometimes egotistical tendencies. It certainly wouldn't cost her any karma points if she never forgave Grant. But then, that wasn't what Rachel was concerned about, was it? Rachel had always forgiven easily, and Quinn didn't think it was because she wanted to make things easier for herself or anyone else or because she expected acceptance and friendship for being so understanding. No, Rachel's forgiveness came from an honest and caring place in her heart, that much Quinn was sure of. Grant wasn't an easy case, but Rachel would absolve him just like she always did with everyone. But no one ever absolved her, did they? Rachel was always blamed, then ignored. And after a while, things would go back to the way they were before. All was forgiven and forgotten. Except - had anyone ever really told her that she was forgiven? It may have been implied in the way they treated her, but it was never said out loud. And Quinn knew that some things didn't mean a damn thing if you never said them out loud.

So where did that leave her? _I need to find it in myself to forgive him, too…_ Did Rachel think it would belittle the forgiveness she had granted her friends if she didn't offer the same to Grant? Did she feel the need to treat a guy she barely knew, who had deliberately caused her physical and emotional pain, the same way she treated friends who had carelessly hurt her? Why? Because she believed in equality and hated the caste system that prevailed at their school? Or because she believed everyone deserved a second chance? A third chance? A hundred chances?

Why did she offer forgiveness to someone who never even asked for it? Or someone who never realized how much they really hurt her? Or someone making the same mistake again and again? Why why why?

Quinn didn't know and from the looks of it, she wouldn't figure it out until Rachel told her, but that was another thing Rachel had stonewalled her on.

It frustrated her, and she'd never handled frustration well. Refusing to let the frustrating fester in her, but also not wanting to let it out on Rachel, Quinn did the only thing she knew would work: she let it out on someone else. It was a good thing no one expected the queen bitch of The Unholy Trinity to be nice.

* * *

><p>Rachel was pissed off, and she was sure it showed. Where was the Quinn from Monday or the week before? <em>This<em> Quinn was nothing like her. No, the Quinn she had the questionable joy of spending most of her Tuesday with was a bully; an unrelenting, havoc-wrecking, mean bitch. If someone even looked at her the wrong way, Quinn would go off on them. If someone bumped into her – hello? crowded hallway? – she would give them a push. And if anyone else than the Glee kids tried to talk to her, she would fix them with a stare, poke them in the chest and threaten them with bodily harm if they didn't think about their words carefully.

Santana didn't act much better, though she was a less scary version of Quinn (and when had _that_ ever happened?) and Brittany was…well, she was Brittany, but all in all, they were all horrible. The Unholy Trinity. It was like they were trying to live up to the title, and five hours into the school day, Rachel decided they really were deserving of it.

"Watch it", Quinn said to an unsuspecting freshman.

The boy looked confused and then irritated, simply having bypassed the girls on his way to his locker.

"Go anything to say?", Santana snapped, stepping closer to him.

The freshman looked from Santana to Quinn, then at Brittany, who scowled at him. Finally, his gaze settled on Rachel.

"Leave her alone or I'll make you suffer", Quinn threatened.

"Yeah", Brittany added.

The freshman hurried off.

"What's gotten into you?", Rachel asked, anger making her voice rise. "He hasn't done anything!"

"He looked like trouble", Quinn explained, but even Santana looked doubtful at that.

"That's it", Rachel said. "I've had enough of this!" Fuming, she pushed past her self-proclaimed protectors and through the sea of students. Quinn wanted to behave like a jerk? Well she could do that all on her own. She wasn't going to be part of this any longer. Who did she even think she was? Not that long ago, the blonde herself had been one of her greatest enemies, and now she thought she could have a go at others? What even for? Not one single person had done or said anything even remotely hurtful to her the whole day. Granted, The Unholy Trinity may have played a part in that, but was it really necessary to threaten the whole student body? Hadn't Quinn listened to Rachel when she had told her that she was perfectly able to fight her own battles? Sure, she hadn't expected Quinn to not do anything. But this? This was a bad joke.

And why were Santana and Brittany even going along with this? The Latina had never been her greatest fan, even with the truce they had going at the moment. And she may mostly go along with what Brittany wanted, but Rachel couldn't believe that the friendly, bubbly girl would've asked her to do something like this. Brittany's form of protection was a much more peaceful kind. No, it was Quinn who had put them up to this, but it seemed strange that they would just follow her lead.

Stopping in her tracks Rachel realized that she was now on the other end of the school building, close to the auditorium. Maybe this was her chance to let off some steam by singing her heart out. Maybe then she'd be able to wrap her mind around Quinn's attitude and Santana and Brittany's motives.

* * *

><p>"We lost her", Santana noted.<p>

"Sorry, Quinn", Brittany said, hanging her head.

"I'm an ass", Quinn admitted.

"You kind of are, but Rachel's gonna get over it", Santana shrugged. "I mean, I was all for putting the fear of god into these idiot's heads, but even I realize we went a bit too far. It was fun, though."

"You were really into it", Quinn pointed out.

"What can I say? The dwarf has grown on me. You're my friend. And jocks like Grant piss me the hell off. All very good reasons to go a little overboard."

"I'm still an ass", Quinn sighed.

"Rachel knows you only behave like that because you care about her", Brittany reassured.

"And because you're repressed and unable to deal with your feelings in a healthy way", Santana interjected.

"That, too", Brittany nodded. "But she's going to forgive you. She always forgives everyone."

"Yeah", Quinn agreed, unsure as to why that knowledge didn't really ease her mind.

"Rachel will be back in your arms in not time", Santana said. "I mean, that girl practically invented _forgiven and forgotten_." With that, she linked pinkies with Brittany and walked off, leaving Quinn alone with her thoughts. She had fucked up, but her friends were right – Rachel really was all about forgiving and forgetting. And that was what it all came down to, wasn't it? She was no closer to figuring the girl out, and this whole forgiving business was the core of her confusion.

_Forgiven and forgotten_ only went so far. What did that even mean? It wasn't like one could erase their mistakes. Save for a serious case of amnesia, it wasn't likely that one would ever truly forget the pain inflicted on them. Forgiven and forgotten. Forgiven, maybe; but forgotten only in the sense that past mistakes would not be held against you in the future. And Rachel – trusting, caring, understanding Rachel – may forgive and forget, but every time someone hurt her it did something to her. Her heart, her soul, didn't forget. And for Quinn, that was simply unacceptable.

Nothing she knew about the brunette told her why she always forgave. There was her big heart and her belief in people. There was the fact that some people desperately needed to be forgiven whether they realized it or not. There was the fact that Rachel herself needed closure to move on. But the puzzle was still not complete. Because from Quinn's point of view, it seemed like Rachel was simply unable to not forgive. It was one of the most inspiring and saddening thoughts she had ever had.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm gonna push the clouds away, push so I can see the way, gonna push until I find my way home…"<em>

"That was awesome", Brittany said, startling Rachel. "I thought I would find you here."

"Thank you", the diva said, taking a bow from the stage. "The auditorium is kind of my safe haven." Sitting down on the edge of the stage, she waited for the blonde to reveal why she was here, and why she was here alone.

"Don't stop singing on my account", Brittany hurried to say. "I love listening to you sing."

"I was done anyway", Rachel explained. "So, did Quinn send you?"

"No."

"Santana?"

"Really?", the blonde asked.

"My bad", Rachel smiled. "So, is there something you needed, or…?" She let the question hang in the air, hoping Brittany wasn't here to reason with her. Knowing the girl, rainbows and ducks would be fundamental parts of her argumentation.

"The girls are looking for you. I had a hunch and wanted to catch you alone. I just wanted to say sorry for our behavior."

"I appreciate that", Rachel nodded.

"Quinn just really worries about you", Brittany said, sitting down next to Rachel.

"I understand that. I just wish she'd find a different way to express it", Rachel sighed.

Brittany leaned back, her eyes on the ceiling. "She's trying. I think she hasn't yet realized that you don't need her to protect you." Glancing at the brunette, her entire expression turned serious. "You can lean on her and let her support you, but you don't need her to fight you battles."

"Exactly", Rachel said, glad that at least one person understood where she was coming from.

"And anyway, as the hero, it's your job to protect her", the blonde continued, her gaze fixed on the ceiling again.

"I…what?" That wasn't what Rachel had expected.

"Santana told me not to tell you because your head's already big enough, but I don't think you have a big head. Your nose is a little bit big, but your head? And anyway, I wanted to tell you. You're kind of my hero."

"Brittany, I'm nobody's hero", Rachel objected, slightly unnerved by the fact that the blonde wasn't looking at her.

"Sure you are. You're proud of yourself. You're sure of yourself. You don't change for anyone, and I admire that."

"It's not that easy."

"Isn't it?", Brittany asked. Suddenly, her eyes were on Rachel again, and the brunette decided it was better when she had looked at the ceiling. At least this way, she didn't feel like her soul was inspected. "Everything can be easy, Rachel. The world doesn't need to be complicated. People put you down, but you stay strong. That's kind of your power, you know? You're super strong. Not like, with lifting weights or anything, but character-wise."

Rachel shook her head, breaking the ridiculously strong hold Brittany's eyes had on her. "Sometimes, I'm tired of being strong."

"Heroes can be tired, too", the blonde said matter-of-factly.

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I _am_ proud of who I am. And I _do_ refuse to change for anyone else. But I'm definitely _no_ poster child. There have been times when I considered changing to the likings of my peers, betraying who I am; just to be liked, just to fit in."

"But you didn't. That's strength", Brittany concluded.

"I counted to ten, didn't I? I took Santana's advice and counted to ten whenever I wanted to say something so people would be more receptive. So people wouldn't get a headache from talking to me. So people would like me more."

Brittany's eyes went wide. "But you're still you. You're still Rachel."

"And most people wouldn't call that a good thing", Rachel said. "I'm not popular. Far from it. It's always been like this, and a part of me is afraid that that won't change, even if _I_ changed. A part of me is afraid that even if I try to fit in, it still won't be enough. _I_ still won't be enough. That's not strength. It's a lot of things, but it's nothing one should admire."

Unable to stand Brittany's piercing look any longer, Rachel almost turned away, but couldn't ignore that the girl looked like she would burst into tears any minute. She raised her hand to lay it on the girl's shoulder and suddenly found herself with an arm full of crying blonde.

"It's okay", she reassured. She needed to believe it as much as Brittany needed to hear it.

"Can we go back to Q and San now?", Brittany asked, her voice small.

"Of course", Rachel answered, willing to do anything to make her friend happy again.

Walking out of the room arm in arm, neither of the two noticed the figure hidden between back-row seats watching them leave with a triumphant grin.

* * *

><p>"What's all the commotion about?", Mercedes asked no one in particular.<p>

Lunch break was almost over, but a large part of the students was rushing to the lunch room instead of their lockers.

Kurt turned to Mercedes and rubbed his hands together. "Let's find out."

Making their way to the large room, they stopped dead in their tracks when they reached the entrance. The room was bursting with students, all of them assembled around a group of people flashing their red and white uniforms. Cheerleaders and footballers. One of them, a thin redhead with a positively evil expression on her face, was standing on a table.

"This cannot be good", Kurt said.

"That's Stacey", they heard Noah, who had come up behind Kurt and Mercedes and was watching the girl on the table.

"What are you doing here?"

"The same as you – satisfying curiosity", he smirked. "I heard something was going to go down here, so I called the troops", he said, gesturing around him. Most of the Glee club had come with him, safe for Quinn, Rachel, Brittany and Santana.

"How do you know Stacey?", Tina asked.

"Well, we once had an encounter in-"

"Forget I asked", she quickly interrupted him, having a feeling this story was going to end in sex, like most things did with Noah.

"What do you think she's up to?", Mercedes wanted to know.

"Something bad", Artie predicted.

"It could be something totally innocent", Sam argued, ever the optimist.

"She's a cheerleader", Noah snorted.

"And she's Grant's girlfriend", Finn added.

That alarmed all of them. "Where's Rachel?", Tina asked worriedly.

"I don't see her."

"Hopefully not here."

"Maybe she's in the band room."

"Should we tell her?"

"There's Quinn and Santana", Finn said, pointing to the other side of the room where he had spotted the two girls.

"Wave them over here, big guy", Kurt instructed.

A few minutes later, only Rachel and Brittany were missing from their group, and the sea of students had grown even more. Apparently, no one wanted to miss out on whatever the cheerleader had planned.

"If this has something to do with Rachel, I'm going to seriously hurt her", Quinn said.

"I think it's starting", Mike whispered.

Stacey was still standing on the table, but now she was waving her pompons in the air to signal everyone to be silent. "I'm here because I have something to say to you", her voice boomed. "As you all know, my boyfriend Grant was suspended for hitting Rachel Berry – something I'm sure each and every one of you has wanted to do once or twice."

"She's dead", Quinn growled, already starting forward, but strong hands held her back.

"Rachel Berry thinks she's better than us. She thinks she's something special. She thinks she can agitate everyone around her and get away with it."

"Being slapped is not getting away with it", someone shouted.

"Violence is not the answer", another voice was heard.

"It's her own fault, really", Stacey continued unfazed.

"If she says she had it coming, I'm helping you kill her, Q", Santana spit out.

"She had it coming" Stacey said.

"That's it", Noah and Finn both exclaimed, trying to make their way over to Stacey's table with Quinn and Santana at their heels. But they didn't make it far – the lunch room was just too full with students, and they were literally trapped.

"Look!", Mercedes suddenly shouted, her gaze fixed on something to their left.

"Rachel", Quinn breathed.

A murmur went through the crowd as more and more people realized that Rachel and Brittany were standing among them, silently listening to Stacey. Stacey realized it too, and her expression grew even more grim. "You had it coming", she emphasized, directing her words at the diva.

With their fists balled up at their sides, the Glee kids couldn't do anything but watch. They felt for their friend, for the embarrassment she was going through. But the only way they could move was out the door, and if they did, they'd never get back in with dozens of students blocking the way; and they'd be even farther away from her than they already were. Anger was clearly visible on their faces; none of them had ever done helplessness well, and this was one of their own who was hurting. There wasn't really anything they could say, either, except "Stop it you stupid bitch", but that probably wasn't too advisable in their current position. If anything, it would only cause a shouting match resulting in a riot. Not a good idea when you were stuck between a few hundred teenagers.

"And you know it, too", Stacey continued. "You know it's your own damn fault nobody likes you, and that's why just take it, right?"

Nobody even moved or made a sound, and Rachel's voice was heard clearly through the room. "Maybe I'm just trying to be the bigger person. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I believe in turning the other cheek, Stacey."

"That's not what you told Brittany, is it?", Stacey asked.

A sharp intake of breath and a shocked look was enough to hold the attention of the onlookers on Rachel, and when they turned back to the cheerleader, she held something in her hands that looked like a recorder. Smiling triumphantly, she pressed a button, and Rachel's voice filled the room.

"_I counted to ten, didn't I? I took Santana's advice and counted to ten whenever I wanted to say something so people would be more receptive. So people wouldn't get a headache from talking to me. So people would like me more."_

"_But you're still you. You're still Rachel", _Brittany's voice sounded_. _

"_And most people wouldn't call that a good thing. I'm not popular. Far from it. It's always been like this, and a part of me is afraid that that won't change, even if _I_ changed. A part of me is afraid that even if I try to fit in, it still won't be enough. _I_ still won't be enough. That's not strength. It's a lot of things, but it's nothing one should admire."_

Pressing another button, Stacey set the recorder down on the table and turned to Rachel. "You're not being the bigger person. You're just a sad, insignificant small town girl who likes to show off. You know people don't like you, you don't even like yourself, and you take whatever people throw at you because you know that it's exactly what someone like you deserves."

"Someone like me?", Rachel asked. "Someone who tries to get out of this town? Someone who doesn't bend to the rules of this school's fucked up version of a caste system? Someone who talks too loud and has no fashion style? Someone who speaks from the heart? Someone who doesn't worship the ground you walk on because you're a cheerleader? What about someone like _you_? Someone who takes pleasure in other people's misery, someone who publicly humiliates others; someone who needs attention so badly, who needs to defend their status so desperately, that they sanction a violent act committed against another person; what does someone like you deserve? What are you willing to take?"

"I can take whatever you dish out", Stacey shrugged.

"I can, too", Rachel promised. "The difference is, I can do it with my consciousness intact." Looking around, she tried to gauge the predominant mood in the room. Many were against her, she knew. Some rooted for her, she knew that, too. But as she caught Quinn's eyes, she knew that for some the outcome of this situation was as important as it was for her. She needed to decide what she wanted to do now – stay true to herself and just say what was on her mind; or ensure her victory over Stacey by saying what she knew would work. In the end, there really wasn't a decision to be made. She was Rachel Berry. She may play to win where her Broadway career was concerned, but she didn't play with emotions.

"Make no mistake, I'm not depressive and I don't hate myself. I _love_ myself. It's difficult to like me, right? That's what I've been told and that's what everyone shows me. Well, tough. I could change every single thing about myself and you still wouldn't like me. Right now I'm unique and you laugh at me for it. Next week I'll be just like you and you'll resent and disrespect me for it. I won't be able to do right by you, will I? So why try? Why make the effort? Who knows, maybe some of you would like a different me. But why should I care? You couldn't like me before? You want me to play pretend? Sorry, I can't do that. Going down that path, _that_ would make me depressive. _That_ would make me hate myself. Because I am who I am and you're not worth changing for."

With that, she turned around and walked out of the room. She walked and walked, never once looking back. She didn't need to see Stacey's reaction. She didn't need to see anyone's reaction. What she needed was some peace and quiet. Some alone time. What she didn't need was an audience for what was surely going to be an epic breakdown. She didn't want anyone to see her like that, except maybe for-

"Quinn!", she shrieked, completely surprised by the blonde suddenly standing in front of her.

"That was…you were…" Quinn was trying to find words while catching her breath. Her hands were on her knees and her face was red.

"Are you okay?", Rachel asked concerned.

"I should be asking you that", Quinn frowned. At Rachel's stern look, she added "I'm okay. I just had to shove and push and run a little bit to catch up to you. Listen-"

"Wait", Rachel interrupted. She was glad that Quinn cared enough to go after her, but something had been on her mind ever since her talk with Brittany, and as she really didn't want to talk about Stacey, now seemed like the perfect time to bring it up. "Brittany said something to me today. About me being strong-"

"Yeah, and I heard your answer to that", Quinn interjected.

"No, before that. She said that I was strong and that it was my job to protect you. What did she mean?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows. Did Rachel really want to this now of all times? "She's in hero-worship mode. She knows you want to stand your own ground. She probably just tried to make you see you'd do the same thing for me that I was trying to do for you."

Rachel shook her head. "That's not what she meant, and you know that as well as I do. What do you need protection from, Quinn?"

Quinn thought about that question, about what her answer would be. She wanted Rachel to be open with her, to talk to her about her fears and problems. That meant she needed to put herself out there, too. It was scary, but she could do it. For Rachel, she could do it. "I think that maybe, I need someone to protect my heart", she finally admitted.

"Oh Quinn…" Rachel felt the need to take the blonde in her arms, but they were still on school grounds, and she still planned on getting home before letting her emotional side take over.

"You were amazing in there", Quinn said. "And I was such a jerk today. I understand if you don't want to, but I'd really like to take you home and…I don't know…get something to eat…watch a movie…forget this day ever happened…plan Stacey's unfortunate tumble from a flight of stairs…"

"Quinn."

"I just want to make sure you're alright. I can't…I realize I went about it the wrong way today, but I can make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you", the blonde implored.

"Quinn", Rachel said again. "Yes, you behaved like a jerk, but you did it because you care about me. Unlike Stacey, you didn't deliberately set out to hurt me."

"I did, before", Quinn whispered.

"We've already been through that", Rachel sighed. "I've forgiven you."

"But I hurt you again."

"Not intentionally."

"You forgive too easily."

"So you told me."

"Are you going to forgive Stacey?"

Rachel said nothing. She really didn't want to have this conversation at school, but she owed Quinn answers.

"She's not going to apologize", the blonde stated. "She's not going to even feel sorry. And given the chance, she'll hurt you again. Intentionally."

"And maybe someday she'll see the error of her ways, but I'm not going to wait until that day to find closure. Quinn, you have to understand that she hasn't yet done anything that I can't get over about. My forgiveness may not be important to her, but it's important for me."

"You make it too easy for her", Quinn insisted. "You're effectively giving her a free pass. You forgive her, and she'll take that, but she won't care. She'll hurt you again and you'll forgive her again. We're not talking about shampoo here, Rachel. Rinse and repeat should not apply to hurting someone. "

Something about the tone of Quinn's voice alerted Rachel to the fact that they weren't just talking about Stacey anymore. She knew she had not yet properly explained her feelings on forgiveness to the blonde, but she hadn't known how much it really bothered Quinn. "Like it did with you?"

"What?", Quinn asked. _Yes_, everything in her shouted.

"Look at where we are now", Rachel said. "It paid off, didn't it? It may have taken some time, but you finally took that forgiveness serious. We all learn, Quinn."

"Stacey won't", Quinn insisted. "Grant won't." _Because they're not in love with you_, she thought. But then, was that really important? She hadn't stopped hurting Rachel because she fell in love with her, had she? She had started feeling bad and trying to change before that, hadn't she? She had first acted like a decent human being around Rachel, going from enemies to tentative friends. Falling in love had come after that. And anyway, it wasn't like one needed to fall in love to feel bad for hurting someone.

"Maybe not", Rachel agreed. "I can live with that. Rinse and repeat brought me _you_, Quinn, and that's more than enough."

But what if Stacey was like Quinn? What if she just needed time and Rachel's influence to realize how wrong she'd been acting? What if she decided to apologize? What if she changed her attitude? Would Rachel then welcome her with open arms like she had with Quinn? What if Quinn wasn't special to Rachel at all?

"It's more than enough", Rachel stressed when Quinn didn't say anything.

What if she and Stacey were just the same? What if they were both just former enemies who finally got their act together and befriended Rachel?

"I think you feel threatened", Rachel said, reading the blonde's thoughts. "Because if I forgive Stacey and Grant, it's no wonder I've forgiven you, is it? What they did to me is worse than what you ever did to me, right? So comparing that, it would have been easy to forgive you, right? And if it's that easy, that means I don't care about what you did to me all that much; I don't care about _you_ all that much – is that what you're thinking? Well, you're wrong. You may not want to hear it, and I'm not telling you this because I want you to feel bad, but the things you said and did to me hurt much worse than anything Grant or Stacey could ever do or say to me. Because I care about so much about you. I always have. And when you're hurt by someone, it's more about the _who_ than the _what_. But that's also true for when you forgive someone. I may forgive their actions, but that doesn't mean I'll ever be friends with them. I care about _you_ more, Quinn. And that makes all the difference."

Quinn didn't know what to say to that. It was more than she had expected; more of an explanation and more feelings; she felt blessed and happy that Rachel knew her so well, that she had opened herself up. But something in that declaration was off…"Good to know I rank higher than Stacey or Grant", she commented.

"I care about you _more_", Rachel repeated.

"I heard you."

"You hear me, but you don't understand. I care about you more. Not more _than_. There's no comparison. But if you really need one: I care about you more than almost anyone else."

Oh. "Almost?", she grinned.

"I do have parents whom I love very much, Quinn", Rachel smiled.

"You care about me more." Joy surged through her and the grin wouldn't leave her face.

"Yes. No matter how much of a jerk you can be", Rachel jokingly added.

"About that…I…I'm…" _sorry_, she wanted to say, because she was. But the words wouldn't come – they had repeated that cycle often enough. She wasn't going to apologize this time. This time, she wasn't going to use empty words. She was going to use words that meant more than that.

"Brittany was right. You are a hero. And you protect me. You protect my heart, sometimes without even trying to. And I'm going to protect yours, if you let me. You'll need to forgive me – I can't promise to never behave like a jerk again. But I can promise that I'll always try to be deserving of that forgiveness. Because I care about you more. Because I more than just like you. And I never meant anything more than that."

And then she took a step forward and pressed her lips against Rachel's. For a split second, before the brunette responded, she panicked, but then she let herself fall into the kiss. In that moment, there was only them. Only Rachel's lips on hers and her hips under her fingers and her scent in her nose and her own heart beating wildly. And when it was over, they stood with their foreheads pressed together, eyes fixed on each other, breathing heavily. "More", Rachel breathed out.

Quinn didn't know if Rachel referred to her earlier words or if it was a request for another kiss, but she decided that it didn't matter, claiming the brunette's lips once again.

They would deal with whatever the world had in store for them later. Grant, Stacey, parents, and the fact that they had stood there talking and kissing long enough for dozens of students to fill the hallway and gawk at them. At the moment, they didn't care. Because _this_, the two of them…it was _more_.

**A/N: I have too many ideas and unresolved parts for this to end here…so what do you think? I can either do a little time jump or a sequel…Any preferences? **


	13. Chapter 13

Heya guys!

Thank you for responses to the story. I decided on doing a sequel. It's called Count On Me and the first chapter is already up. Though _already_ might be a euphemism. I'm sorry, but work was crazy. To give you an example: on Monday I worked until 8 pm. I got about 2 hours of sleep - then a colleague called me shortly after midnight and asked me to come in and finish her shift because she had a family emergency. I was back in bed at around 4 in the morning. Then at 7 am another colleague called me and asked me to come in because she'd forgotten her keys to the office. By the time I was back home, I only had time for a shower and a nap. I started my next shift at 11 am.

But back to important things: the sequel. Count On Me picks up three weeks after Count To Ten. It's not as planned out as CTT was (though even CTT took turns I hadn't expected when I started writing it) but I do know where I want it to go and what I want it to contain. I'd still be happy about any ideas you might have.


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